I have spent the first five or so weeks where I work sitting at a desk throughout the night in a dark group home unit. The only real light is a two foot long florescent bulb, fixed to the wall about two feet above the desk. So, just above eye level. Directly under the light is a fish tank with six gold fish swimming about, occasionally splashing a few drops out onto my laptop.

If you’ve ever seen a fish tank in a dark room with one strong light situated directly over it, then you might have an idea what of what it’s like to sit at this desk, hour after hour, with this fish tank wrinkling surreal light into your face while the full effect of the florescent bulb slowly but surely sucks the moisture from your eyes and brains.

Of course with the psychic imprints from children past and present—ghosts—walking the hall, peeking from rooms, and brushing the psyche, it can get a little heavy on the mind in other ways, too. This sort of thing can only lead to a postmodern bit of poetry.