Bits, pieces.

In the middle of every night, lately, a bird starts singing in the trees outside my flat. Singing, singing, singing, there alone in the middle of the night. Someone else finally remarked upon it to me today, and I said, I've heard it too! Call me next time it happens, my friend said. Do you really want a call in the middle of the night? I asked. Yes, he said. But what is it? we all wonder. Is it a robin? Is it a blackbird? Is it a nightingale?

In my solipsism I hear it as another late-nighter, trilling away to herself in the dark.