Why does the mind always boil when we lie down? Why just in need of rest the mind insist in thinking about the last truths, planning everything, wanting to pass the ruler over life? Why does deeper rumination always occur in the absence of the sun? Why does consciousness always, like a bat, choose the night to wake up? Mysteries… Mysteries that accredit insomnia as driver of intellectual life —and, of course, accredit the bad mood in the mornings…
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