By 2 a.m. everybody is asleep. Since I always forget something downstairs, but don’t want to wake anyone, I walk around in the dark very quietly. Seems like I have been wandering through houses at nights my whole life. There’s a realness that can only be met at night time. It is another life. My sleeplessness connects me to it. Insomnia is my wardrobe to Narnia.
The child said to me today: “I think I’m leaving childhood a bit, because I feel I don’t need you to bring me to bed anymore. Now, I actually like being alone in the evenings. Should I worry? Or means growing up that you start to like being alone?”