Jonas, I try to find my way back to sleep by stepping over a threshold to another world. I imagine a lakefront at dusk on an alien shore, the sky above splashed with the spirals of a nearby galaxy. The sand at my feet is white, and shimmers in its glow. It is a timeless place. I am feathered, white with ashen wingtips. Standing by the water’s edge, I open my throat to sing – sing a long, recursive, rising and collapsing call to my kin.















