I think my prose reads as if English were my second language. By the time I get to the end of a paragraph, I'm dodging bullets and gasping for breath.
“I was proud of working 18 hours a day and sleeping three hours a night. It's something now that has turned into a problem for me: not being able to sleep... having insomnia.”
“Beauty is the disinterested one, without which the ancient world refused to understand itself, a word which both imperceptibly and yet unmistakably has bid farewell to our new world, a world of interests, leaving it to its own avarice and sadness.”