Sleep story · quiet, books

A library at closing time (a sleep story), when your attention is scattered — for winding down

The last hour, when the lights go down row by row.

Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.

Read it myself

Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.

The story, in full

The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections.

There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing. The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Your ankles can go loose now.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your hands be completely still.

The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.

Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.

Softer. Let it all get further away.

Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Leave it there. Just the weight.

Scattered attention is the raw material, not an obstacle.

The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.