Urban Logics, Page 77.

The night is crawling with sparks. I can't sleep. Bad dreams. The heat and the sweat. Flesh prickling with itches, like braille insects. I end up taking a three in the morning cold shower. Fifteen, twenty minutes, until the water jet weakens to a dribble. Too many people with the same idea; maybe in every room of the hotel, all the lonely people, trying to get clean.