But you don’t know what sound the sea makes when it cries, what color the flowers in the garden are, how long the tails of the birds that stay every summer are.

It becomes overwhelming to explain things that are too obvious. Can you eloquently explain how to breathe, how to walk? Words become impoverished after a sentence or two, and you’ll run out of things to say.

Like that. My days are so monotonous that I don’t have much to tell you.

But even the stairs I always climb, the teacup I always use, the peers I’ve seen for over a decade—if I look at them long enough, new things will emerge.

Like how the third step from the bottom makes a subtle creaking sound when stepped on, or how the side of the teacup I use most often has blue waves painted on it. That Rosette, who is a span taller than me, shows her upper teeth when she smiles, and those teeth are very white.

Observing to tell you makes things I’ve seen for a long time feel new to me too. Like someone who has fallen on an unfamiliar fork in the road, I feel a bit dazed, perplexed, and delighted.

Today I ordered a book from the bookstore.

It’s a compilation of letters Marso Cella sent to his brother. He wasn’t an author I was interested in, but since you like his sea, I became curious too.

The library only had his first collection of poems. It includes his debut work, “The Violet Fruit of Paratan.” Although I can’t feel the same emotions as you do when looking at the painting you like, I want to know what you like.

Even if it’s just a small part.

They often hold exhibitions of the deceased’s posthumous works in the capital. Even in major cities, there are at least one or two large art galleries.

I want to see them someday.

Understanding an artist’s life and seeing their work in person are certainly different.

On my way home from the bookstore, I met Rosette. She must have just come out of the water, as there were dark water marks behind her steps.

Her loosened hair still had marks from hair ties, and her insteps were darkly tanned without wearing shoes. Her tall lover was beside her.

She just waved her hand a few times and passed by me. Rather, it was Bash who greeted me, asking how I was doing.

I was fine until I saw them, but after seeing the two, my head felt a bit dizzy. But not enough to faint or stagger.

So I adjusted my parasol to prevent it from slipping and walked steadily. Only after arriving home did I realize my shoulders had been tensed.

Now I’m lying down due to the aftereffects. The knotted muscles still haven’t loosened.

I think I’ll sleep well without dreaming tonight. If I don’t fall sick tomorrow, I couldn’t ask for more.

Sleep well.

Sent by Asha

P.S. The moon was pretty today too. It had a reddish tint like crushed cherries.]

[To the diligent Asha

Did you wake up safely from your sleep? I hope you keep in mind that there’s someone far away who would be sad if you were to fall ill and suffer.

I’m moving my pen with some concern about whether I’ll be able to receive a reply soon.

The weather here continues to make throats dry easily. People are busy preparing for the severe cold. Though it’s still a couple of months away, some years the cold arrives earlier than usual.

Weather that makes even those who have lived with cold their entire lives hunch their shoulders. The storage is full of pickled food and alcohol. Merchants who stayed in Kasoche have finished preparing to leave, and people who went to other cities are returning one by one.

I help adults carry straw and inspect the mansion for areas that need repair. Dad will review it once more anyway.

I also check if there are any rotten branches on trees close to houses. It may seem trivial, but it’s quite labor-intensive and troublesome. I’ve gotten used to it now, though.

When the severe cold begins, I won’t be able to go anywhere.

After hearing news related to that, my mind is a mess like a knitting gone wrong. It feels like one stitch out of twenty was knitted with a different pattern.

I have neither the energy to unravel it and start over, nor the nerve to close my eyes and ignore it.

I really……

I’m afraid I might end up hating everyone.

Since hearing the news, insomnia that I didn’t even know I had has found me. It’s very late dawn now, or perhaps very early dawn.

It’s an ambiguous time, too vague to fall asleep or to fully wake up. As the days get shorter, Kasoche’s day starts later, so I’ll be alone for the next few hours.

The mansion is still quiet.

Do you ever wander in the swamp of insomnia? Even when you close your eyes, remnants of the past or imaginings of the future torment you. Just as I’m about to fall into sleep, they pull up my consciousness and play with it.

What’s more infuriating is that no matter how much I share this fact, adults will dismiss it as ‘temporary sensitivity.’ What power can words have when they’re not taken seriously?

I just have to bow down flat according to the adults’ plans.

They want me to smile dully even with gravel chewed in my mouth. But even if I can somehow smile through it at the dining table, when I lie in bed, I can’t help but writhe thinking, ‘Ah, that bastard then!’

Do you know any effective ways to chase away insomnia?

As long as that person is here, I won’t leave my bedroom for the time being. I don’t want to meet them, even by chance. I know it’s immature behavior, but sometimes avoidance is the best means of defense.

What do you think? Do you consider it too extreme or immature?

But for me, this is the best I can do.

Oh, the sunlight is brightening. I think I really need to sleep now.

Wishing for your peaceful slumber, Carol]

[To Carol

Is there anyone who knows better than me how to spend time when unable to fall asleep? In that sense, you’ve found the right person.

I’ve experienced lonely nights when I couldn’t wake anyone, and sharp dawns when I didn’t want to call anyone.

When you can’t easily fall asleep, people can choose one of two methods.

Either try to force yourself to sleep, or give up entirely and enjoy the extra time.

Fortunately, I’ve mastered both methods. That’s good news for you.

If you absolutely must sleep, try drinking moderately warm tea. It’s a classic method, but there’s a reason many people turn to it. But avoid teas with stimulating effects. I recommend chamomile or lavender.

Steep the tea leaves in hot water and drink it after ten minutes. If it’s too hot, you might burn your tongue, and sleep might escape.

Warm milk instead of tea is also fine. But drinking milk always gives me trouble, so I haven’t properly tested it. If your muscles relax gently, it will be much easier to close your eyes.

But there will be days when you can’t fall asleep even after drinking several cups of tea. No, actually, if you could fall asleep with just one cup of tea, you wouldn’t be having this worry.

At those times, open a very, very thick book. Not an interesting book. Not a mystery novel. Something you would never look at with a sound mind—in my case, it was books related to architecture.

Measuring the width of spaces, piling up soil and stones…… Looking at book pages where incomprehensible words are meticulously assembled like well-fitting puzzles makes my head heavy.

I guess the words my head can’t digest pile up and lead me to sleep. If you’re still not drowsy, sit by the window and look at the sky.

Then count the stars one by one in the deep blue sky. It’s fine to know the constellations, and it’s fine not to. I don’t know any of them.

They all look the same to me, but Grandfather pointed out several stars, connecting them and telling me they were all different constellations. Do you know the names of stars that all look equally white?

As you count them one by one, you’ll forget where you started, and soon you’ll want to lie in bed. It’s too tedious to spend all night with your head tilted up, counting stars as small as grains of sand.

If you still can’t fall asleep after all this, you have no choice but to change your plan.

On such a day, it’s better to just give up and think, ‘I guess I’m not ready to spend the night.’ Then do things you’ve been putting off.