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White Nights

Every night I wake up at five a.m. sharp. Sometimes startled by a dream†; others drowsily, a part of me struggling to sleep on while the rest is intent on denying me this escape. Occasionally I doze back and get a full nightís rest. More often, I toss and turn for one or two hours, get up, pee, look at my Parisian apartment by the light of the street lamps, finally fall into a deep slumber. I awake by mid-morning, tired and already late. Iíve heard every explanation under the sun, attended to the position of my bed, avoided television, drank soothing infusions, took or not a warm shower before lying down. All along Iíve known it is a case of permanent jetlag, an inner refusal to remain in this borrowed place, a constant call from the city that never sleeps.


            • Black Leather Jacket
            • Ground Zero
            • The Rich Girl
            • It's a Nice Day to Go to Heaven
            • The Music Box
            • Fluctual Nec Mergitur
            • The Seaport
            • The Comet
            • My cousin from Hollywood
            • Cabbage Flower
            • Fire Island

            • The Blue Hour
            • Fortune Soldiers
            • Extreme Liking
            • Fossil Energy
            • The Crowning
            • White Nights