Sleep—which, when things go well, consumes a third of our lives—poses two opposed existential perplexities. The first is about consciousness: we know that we sleep, but cannot know that we are sleeping, since sleep is, in its nature, non-present. The second perplexity has to do with what we can, in fact, remember, and that is the experience of dreams. While engaged in the non-knowable act of sleeping, we also learn nightly that it is possible to know that we have had vivid, intense, unforgettable experiences that are, at the same time, delusions. Sleep tells us that there are black holes outside the possibility of narrative description; the dreams we have when we’re sleeping tell us that our entire existence might be a narrative fiction.
I met up with some #ldnont Discord server peeps tonight and made reference to 2007 London Twitter.
I was looked at like I had three heads, and like I was a thousand years old.
I’ve entered my old white man, I remember the days when…, phase.
Ps. 2007 was 18(!) years ago.

Although I've claimed this for years, Patrick Rhone put it up online, so it must be true.
Guys. Dudes. Men.
Life is this simple.
My annual walk around the local lake happened this morning. 20-25km in under 3hrs. Still got it. Still sweaty.
My favourite part about travelling is returning home.
There's something about the familiarity, sameness, comforts and routine that I sadly miss when I'm away for more than a day or two.
Returning home isn't all roses.
I'm reminded how much my hometown fails to live up to its potential and falls short in many ways to make the city a safe and habitable place for its residents.
I truly believe that a person needs to love the place they live and support it in all of the ways they can. With that said, the same person cannot live with their head in the sand and refuse to recognize how far behind their hometown is in building a livable and world class environment.
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