I have no idea what happens when I turn my back.
I sleep through everything.
It is quite stupid how I never open my eyes.
The carpet is luscious. The blossom at the window is spectacular.
I try to keep them apart.
There are more grown-ups than I know what to do with.
I have a different Darling for each one. I inﬂect it.
I miss everything — the haunted wardrobe, the bald landlady,
the slurring woman crashing up and down the stairs,
Look after her, Look after her, Pierrot with his little spoon.