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I hate the fact that ‘sleeping with someone’ has become a phrase synonymous with pure sexual intercourse and nothing more. I blame the media most of all. It is a truly sad aspect of our world today that it debases all the noble beauties of love and sex to mechanisms and standards, to procedural steps to reach climax, to succeed and complete a mission, no more.

In my world, sleeping with someone is an act of peace where two souls choose to abandon motion, words, and all expectations. They choose to sleep together, hands intertwined or bodies embraced or hearts beating as one. No force, no power, no heat. Just peace, a different kind of peace for we are satisfied by the silence of the air and its euphoria overwhelming us. A work of art where bodies are flawed but their love flawless. I surrender not to burning lust but to shining passion embodied not in ‘sleeping with’ you but in sleeping together. Lying side by side, in silence, the atmosphere speaking louder than any ‘I love you’ yet our hearts beat louder.

And no one put it better than Kundera: Making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two separate passions, not merely different but opposite. Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman). 

I believe ‘sleeping with someone’ is merely an activity humans carry out to survive and quench their thirst. But sleeping together or as Kundera puts it ‘making love’ is a state of art and peace which we find ourselves in spontaneously as we give in to moments of indescribable grace with only special beings whom we consider blossoms of our own tree.

This is sleeping together.

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