Anna, whom everyone calls Queenie — a childhood nickname that took hold — lives down the hall from my now-empty third-floor apartment. It’s not really a hall — more like an elevated walkway with a full wall on one side where the apartment doors are and a half-wall on the other side open to a four-story atrium with skylights that sound like snare drums whenever it rains.
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A Good Night’s Sleep
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
William Shakespeare, The Tempest
My bedroom is done.
Well, “bedroom” is probably an exaggeration.
But the bed platform in my van is built and with a few minor adjustments will soon accommodate a twin-size futon so I can stretch out and rest my weary bones after long days of nomading. (Yes, that’s a thing.)
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