When I was eight or nine years old we moved to a new house in a new suburb. Some time between then and when I moved out of the room1 I was given a packet of glow-in-the-dark stars, which I stuck all over the walls and ceiling and wardrobe doors.
When I come to visit, I'm surrounded by all my old made-up constellations as I wait to fall asleep.
- A thing about my family that remained fairly constant over the years is the periodic switching of bedrooms. Perhaps my frequent furniture-rearranging impulses have this at their root. [↩]
In my old room there's a silhouette of the Starship Enterprise, from where its glow-in-dark sticker damaged the wall upon removal.
My room is quiet, with a few streetlights coming in, and the hum of the fan from the downloads machine, quietly purring in a distant room. Late at night, local traffic cruises through the area, and feels like a distant river flowing by.