[[[[[[[[Watching a man sleeping]]]]]]]]]]

Watching a man sleeping

written on 06.09.2010

translated on 04.20.2013

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I came home and found him sleeping.
There, hugging himself on the sofa, hiding his face away from me.
It was a picture so lovely, I looked at him for a long time. I was determined to keep it. I saw his chest ascending and descending, following the rhythm of his breathing.

Why is it that I always find the sight of people napping, so pitiful? I wonder what drove them to that defeated state of a body, at times when it should be moving around, up and about.
So here he lies, here he  sleeps,
this man that I love.

I wonder about his dreams. I moved closer because his hair looked very soft.
I sat just under the sofa, and caressed that hair of his. Soft and fragrant, like that of a young girl. In fact he does not look like a man nor a woman, when he sleeps. Wearing a youthful expression of a tiny kid, his eyebrows sadly descending, he sleeps. He breathes wearing such a face.

He looks as if he is willing to open his eyes at any given moment and yet they do exactly the opposite. Perhaps to cause me pain. Perhaps  to make me suffer a little.
I simply want to sit here, wait here, and look at him until he finally opens his eye.
Forever.
Perhaps the time frame of forever is shorter than I have anticipated, or maybe it was he who didn't want to let me have that pleasure; for whatever reasons, then and there he opened his eyes.

His eyes stared into the air, for a while, until they found me. I could see the inside of his eyes slowly bubbling up-getting warmer and warmer. Now they recognize me. Place me in his gaze. He looked relieved, and that enabled him to close his eyes again.

"When did you come in?"

"Just now."


As I held his cheeks in my hands. I could feel his head getting heavier and heavier in them.

It takes time to get to know a wild animal, to let it trust you enough to surrender its little body upon your hands.
That final point of relaxation. That final point of trust.
He looked as if he was getting a chill, so I took hold of a blanket. I unfolded that light thing and let it snow upon his body. He is sort of too big to crawl into it but he somehow manages.

I let him be, for he looked like he was off, looking for some sleep again.
I walked into the kitchen and found some coffee there. I boil water using a small pot, so I can watch it boil. I become oblivious of the time passing when I listen to the water getting boiled. I concentrate my thoughts on the water, so that it can boil faster.

I start pouring the water into the french press and watch the layer of crema forming on the brim.

The smell of coffee is especially tasty when you are just about to fall asleep. For that moment I feel an echo of envy towards that man, lying on the sofa.

I lay my body upon the kitchen table.

A time in the afternoon, that demands sleep.