Am heavy with lack of sleep today, and I have to write a central tango scene for the new novel. Probably no co-incidence that I've made one of my characters yearn more for comfy pillows than hot footsteps, but perhaps he'd be better taking off to one of these exhibitions: the 4 vegetative sleep rooms in Rotterdam (see above by Gerda Steiner and Jorg Lenzlinger), or the wonderful Sleepers, where Sophie Calle invited 24 friends and strangers to share her bed and tell her stories, or even Tracey Emin's iconic bed.
And my writing prompt for today is: An unsuitable bedtime story
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