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As to plot: to what end is individual man tending? What does he want or aim for? To leave his son with a better established business than his father left him? To die wealthy? To enjoy life as soon as possible, and as much as possible? To win the love of a certain woman? To acquire fame as a scientist? A writer? A musical comedy singer? To visit every country in the world? (No, that passes.) To understand the world as a philosopher? Most people in my book have forgotten, gradually and in the abrasive rush of time, the sharp pricking edges, the arresting colors, of their original ambitions. Their ambitions are like old lost loves, pricking them to dull attention in the middle of a drink, of a conversation, with a dulled recognition. “That is mine,” they realize suddenly, as they would think on seeing a photograph of the girl they once slept with: “She was mine once!” To make a plot of individual objectives and to see them lost and forgotten, that is logically the plot of The Sleepless Night. Carry the reader on as the ambitions carry the characters on for certain periods of time. Then simple life takes over.