Dur­ing the last cou­ple of years I’d often find myself unable to sleep. Lay­ing in bed, eyes open, star­ing at the win­dow and the street lights com­ing through, or lost in the shapes I’d find in the ceil­ing. Some­times read­ing, some­times writ­ing, some­times spend­ing hours in front of the phone screen. Do you some­times find your­self lost in ques­tions about what will tomor­row bring? About what could have been and what it actu­al­ly was? About lost time and all the moments that led to this present of empti­ness? If you do then that makes two of us …

What if tomor­row I just don’t open my eyes?
If I decide to lay in bed and feel
my hours slow­ly pass­ing by 

What if I nev­er leave this room again?
and as the wolf blows unmer­cy
the walls shake in pain 

What if I for­get how to write my name?
if my whole life becomes a minute
that just fades away 

Will You under­stand my native tongue?
Will You know if it’s right or wrong for me to leave or stay?
Will You know that I’m still here
with my eyes closed slow­ly falling asleep?

—Malvón