December 19. Last night I had the same dream Ive had every so often for years. My mother enters my room at night and says to me in a hoarse voice, Stop working, youre tired. Go to sleep. I look at her. Shes pale, and smiles. Then she gets up and withdraws, leaving her white hand behind on my desk. I get up and take the heavy, dead hand, open the window, and throw it out.
Within the waters of his sleep, Felipe had the vague sensation that the sound of his alarm pursued him like a determined fish. Half-awake, he hardly noticed when his wife beside him turned over in bed. Then he opened his eyes. And when he saw a ray of light falling like a twine of gold from a thin gap along the front door, he jumped up, bare feet on the ground.
So you see, Murph, said Baron de Graün as he finished reading the report, which he handed to the squire, based on our information, we must turn to Jacques Ferrand to track down the parents of La Goualeuse, and it is Mlle Rigolette we must question concerning the current whereabouts of François Germain. That is already a large matter, I believe, knowing where to look—for what one is looking for.
Emmalea Russos Wave Archive (Book*Hug) is a book about a quest for healing, security, and peace. Russo creates an artistic representation of epileptic seizures and draws upon a lifelong pursuit for self-knowledge. Russo shares her own experience with, what Owsei Temkins terms, the falling sickness in this autobiographical work. Throughout she uses a combination of poetry, essays, and artwork to illustrate an altered mental state.