Whenever I sleep somewhere new, it takes me a while to get used to it. I've stayed with Svet a lot before – we've known each other for about eight years so I've spent a lot of time on the sofabed in her lounge, but this is the first time I've been here on my own.
Every house has it's own set of noises. The sounds of the fridge humming; the floorboards that creak and that one which – if you tread on it just right – makes a sound like someone whispering behind you that scares the crap out of you; the footfalls of the people in the flat above which sound like they are in your flat instead.
Lying in bed, it's like listening to someone breathing beside you. The house inhales and something creaks. It exhales and something squeaks. A fuck-off great big freight train hurtles past in the middle of the night and it's less like the house breathes, more like it has a chronic snore leading on to sleep apnea.
For someone used to a quiet bordering on silence, I think it will take a while to adjust.
{ Comments on this entry are closed }
