On one occasion, I was in a room and UV rays were catching on dust particles, making them glow in the air like daytime fireflies. The walls were peach with sun and I put my hand up to make a shadow. The shadow is me, I thought, I know it; I know the forearm bones, the flesh, the skin, the fine hairs – all me, all shadow. I followed this thought as it scampered down a dark neural pathway. I am shadow. I followed it all the way down into myself, further down than I’d ever gone, until the light above me faded and darkness closed in. Down until everything was dark and the dark was fathomless and the outside world was a pinprick of light above me, and I was overcome with the dank smells of myself – of my own soul.