You’re a traveler who checked into a hotel at night. The simplistic room has everything you need, with decorations and arrangements that have no personality whatsoever, since it must cater to the taste of everyone. You switch off the lights, curl between the sheets, with only the smell of washed clothing lingering.
As your body sinks into the quilt, it is as if the outline of your body is already saved in the bed as you try to summon it forward. You linger at the borders of consciousness, traveling solo, with no idea who is about to walk by in another night.