NarumiKaiko

She sleeps. Her body goes through the motions, lectures, labwork, meetings. Her brain is fully functioning, interacting on a personal and intellectual basis, but she sleeps. She lives for the moments, few and far between, when the mundane curtains of the world fall back, and suddenly, she wakes. Wonderful moments, all too brief, and often all too compromised. It doesn’t take much to allow such rich enjoyment- a brief moment of teaching in  the lab, the dichotomy of singing her all in a church choir, the absolute freedom of singing at the top of her lungs as she dances about, cleaning the house. And yet something stops her from frequently