8:142) Hope O'Keeffe 02-MAR-98 4:00

my bed would be empty if it weren't for the two sleeping children, come to snuggle in because they coudn't sleep either. My head spins with work undone, life maintenance tasks undone, promises unfulfilled. My eyes itch; even my hair is tickling me. I finally shrug into a robe, stumble downstairs, replace those tiny snores with the bubbling fish tanks and the click of the keys. My rationalization for giving up was that I'd work now, but instead I'm sucked into the dancing monitor and all those voices out there, friends and strangers. My real life is a perfectly good one; today was quite magical, ambling hand-in-hand through the city through alternating warm driplets and sunshine after we missed the matinee. And yet, I cannot sleep when the voices call.