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I needed rest last night. I had slept in most of the day but I felt that more sleep would be needed. I couldn’t. There was a thing in my head, a thought, so many thoughts. Kind of thoughts which make you stay awake in the dark. Not about my life. About a person. A thought of a person can actually kill you, I’m sure of that. Anyway, it was half past three sometime and I decided to re-read one of the Nicholas Sparks novels. Then found the hint to “Leaves of grass”. I ordered this collection of Walt Whitman some time ago, long time. When I first read it it was difficult to understand with all those ancient, heavy words. I read a lot of poems last night and I understood all of them. It seems Mr. Whitman and I share a state of mind and soul. What he’d put into sense and meaning was the stuff that fills my head all the time. It’s so lovely and wonderful to see him having written some sentences on his deathbed, wishing for his lyrics and songs and poems to be a guide for future poets. I am a future poet and if only he had known then that I would be grateful for all his writings. The way he describes the beach and the flotsam (is this the correct word? I mean the algae and shells that were washed up at the beach) is astounding me. He worships all this as much as I do sometimes. There’s nothing more worthy and stunning than a tree and you standing underneath and looking up into it’s top. I couldn’t stop reading. The words were catching my eye or other way round. The thing is, I just couldn’t stop. Sometime I was so tired, I fell asleep.

I overslept this morning and had to get to university in a rush, by bike, without breakfast and through heavy rain. Damn it.

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