ABSTRACT
The sun barely out today: a small boy who hides behind drapes, shy of visitors. I want to hide, too, in this room, forever, behind lamps and pillows, inside the yellow wallpaper or under the rug of leftover threads woven into a multicolored bird. Between day and night, when the sky is indecisive between dark and light, a quilt of clouds, books and hours slip from my lap. I sit by the window: fuchsias droop beyond the lace curtains, wind shakes oak leaves after rain. Darkness arrives unnoticed: my bed narrow, the mattress high.
