Putin is tossing restlessly in bed.
His sheets are soaked with sweat.
A voice is repeating:
Who controls snake Island
Controls the Black Sea.
Who controls Snake Island
Controls the Black Sea.
But something else.
Damn what the hell is it?
His head is throbbing.
Some little thing.
Dear god, what is it!
He can't sleep. He has to call the general
Right now.
He fumbles for the phone on his night table
And drops it.
He climbs out of bed in his night shirt.
Putin searches under the bed.
He can't find the damn phone - Proklinat!
He puts his slippers on
And goes to his desk.
He opens his laptop, signs in.
But he just slumps in his chair.
Ð?Ð ' '?' ! Another sleepless night.
Maybe it was a bad idea!
No, don't go there Vlad!
Don't go there!
He sidles into the kitchen
To make some hot chocolate
Trying not to clank the pot
And wake up the maid or Alabai
Who always sleeps by the door.
Now he is sitting in his favorite chair.
He turns on his Ipad, scrolls to a guided meditation
And closes his eyes.
Slowly, slowly he lets himself sink
Into an ocean of light.
(Article changed on May 11, 2022 at 1:09 PM EDT)
