The sounds press into my ears like feet into sand
The wailing shudder of the trees
The moan of the protesting stairs
I creep up.
My feet licking the ground
The clutter of the unkempt kitchen is my companion on this secret journey
The eternity of ledges go on for miles
My legs move swiftly racing the second hand
careful not to wake the slumbering inhabitants of the house.
Photo credit: Clare McCullough