When the rain stops, the clouds clear and the moon comes out, you can become disorientated. Moonlight hardens up the shadows and sometimes you find yourself stepping over them. You do a double-take, steady yourself.

   The moon makes filigree shapes of the trees; it’s as if they’ve been carved out of cork and maybe for a second or two you are in a paperweight scene.

   When you’re in the garden sometimes, you wonder about how it came to be that you passed your twin, your doppelganger, in the hospital corridor the other day. And what it meant. Or means. When you’re slightly drunk you may find yourself speculating in a way that seems slightly whimsical but in fact isn’t whimsical at all.