It is evening and I type and Mim tells me that I sit in darkness too much.  That I always work in the dimness of a half-light.

I resist her attempts at light because the dim feels comfortable to me.

I worked at night in near-darkness for several years.   There was always solar power to conserve and large insects to avoid attracting.  Darkness was safe and quiet, calm and sure and familiar. And visitor-free.  And a chance to pause from trouble.

I grew to like it.

I like it still.

Anyway we all know what happens when the light goes on too quickly.   I’ll be blinded.  A nocturnal creature exposed and out of place in a too-real world.

Now I know why my American friends have not yet seen much of me; especially of my heart.

It is waiting for a slow dawn and for the narrowing of pupils and for a safe shelter from which to reconnect.