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Mind of a machine

Ah, sleep of the damned. That messy, unsettled phase where your mind races at the speed of light and everything in life seems that little bit more complicated. Yes, ‘twisting and turning’, you evil companions to a hot summer’s night, how I could do without you. Give me stillness and the faint wisp of a cool autumn breeze anytime. Yet as the lights of the city beam vigorously under a still blanket of deepest black, here I am dreaming of giant crabs with laser guns and masterful hidden agendas. Perhaps it was the cheese I ate before I went to bed. Or maybe the whiskey nightcap just didn’t settle well … whatever. The day’s too short to think about it. And my head isn’t in the mood anyway. Mind you, give me twenty minutes and a few bars of Point Man and I’ll be right back up there again. After all, there’s nothing quite like extreme distortion and a barrage of angry lyrics to kick start your pulse. [illustration by Evah Fan]