Scared, the light switches glow in the darkness above your head. the air is high summer, opiated rainstorm thunder, humid damp and you are uncomfortable and one leg refuses to function, strange pains appear in new parts of your old tired body. II at night giant moths fling themselves against the caravan windows, drawn by a solo, solar light. you read and you wriggle and you toss and you turn. III by day you wear bright red earphones and laugh. you handle three digital devices simultaneously. you click and you point, you click and you point. at times pleased, at times pouting, at times mostly hidden.