10pm again. Tired from spinning too many thoughts, tired from being restless for days. Invisible moon, a sky still too bright for stars. An exceptionally loud voice suddenly bursting into wild laughter, even stranger and more unreal given the silence at the edge of daily routines. The evening, too: Showering in cold water. Submerging in thin books bearing blue flowers on their covers. Late requests, responses delayed.

Whatever that dreams.