I’m reading ‘As I lay Dying’ by William Faulkner and out of his pages comes this paragraph smashing me.
‘In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I dont know what I am.’
That stopped me in my tracks.
And the ‘dont’ was written exactly that way.