I lie in bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, staring at the shifting city lights on my ceiling. My earphones sit in my ears allowing piano notes to climb into my head and play with my brain. My heartbeat is so slow, my breathing so shallow, that I almost feel dead. The beautiful music moves me emotionally, but physically I am still.
I am distinctly aware of the bed beneath me and of the floor beneath that. Sixteen levels separate my apartment from the ground, each with their own set of homes. In every one of them the layout is the same, but the scene is different. Stories within storeys.
Here I am, floating in my own slab of space with people above and below me. We are all in our own worlds. If I look out the window I’ll see other buildings like mine, with their windows of light and dark. I’ll see movement in some. More worlds. So close, but a million miles from me.