The Hyggelig Journey

Sleep refuses to come. I lie there, staring at the empty ceiling, darkness pressing in from all sides. It’s not fear, nor pain — just this relentless wakefulness, as if the night were a place without an exit. My weary body pleads for rest, but my mind — ever unfaithful — drifts where it shouldn’t. I count the minutes like someone stacking silences. Outside, everything sleeps — the dogs, the streetlights, the windows — but I remain, a solitary witness to time standing still. They’ve given me explanations: hormones, habits, internal clocks gone awry. But it isn’t just chemistry. It’s something deeper — a strange misalignment between body and soul, as if one were ready to surrender while the other, hesitant, lingers just a little longer. Acupuncture is a way of whispering to the body: remember? Remember what it was like to sleep? To let darkness be a refuge, not a labyrinth? The finest needles, barely a touch, and something shifts — a knot unravels. The heart slows, the breath...