There must be nothing more meaningful than a sleep. Obviously it recharges one physically. And mentally, it brings relieve, at least temporarily. Like a balm. Less prominently, it is the closest thing to death. Especially when there is no dream. Or maybe you also dream when embedded in the soil - how does one know such thing? I have digressed. Knowing life without knowing death is only looking at the bright side or upside of a thing which, as a result, you will never appreciate enough. Even less of death or sleep.
Excuse me while I proceed to pursue my la petite mort or little death that lies dusty between pages.
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