Going to bed with BBC on TV. I turn the sound on a subliminal level, and that serves as my night light, while Aubrey has her aquarium as her night light. It is a phenomenological experience to be in a cozy bed while the world frantically marches on. There are snatches of fluorescent light coming in through the window from the front porch of my sister's apartment and wedges of halogen from a street lamp. In a corner of my captain's cabin bedroom, the pilot light of my computer's hard drive casing glows like a tiny, blue star.

Night is all about light, not darkness.