Lifeless Body Sleepless Mind

The hour approached noon and Yevguiny Parvorov was enjoying his early siesta. His work ethic was lacking in so many ways that had his employment not been vouchsafed by a deceased uncle, his would be the life of a vagabond. As it was, he hardly dared to touch the lathe and hammer which were his profession’s scythe and sickle. Having been born into riches and kept afloat by the toil of other men, he had descended into morbidity of both body and soul.

The one thing which could be said for him was that he was a thinker to rival the great philosophers. Much like Ignatius J Reilly in A…