l i g h t

it might be from anywhere.

from where does the light seep through the cracks of the solid wooden door?
a city perhaps - the other side of this cool damp wall beside me may border a street all a hustle and a bustle. men, woman, children and pets going here and there all dressed up or down for this or that.
or maybe a pasture - the dampness on the wall is dew from the stream close by that twinkled in the cool evening that may have ended just moments ago.

from when does the dull light trickle in?
it might be anytime of day ...or week, or month, or season, or year. the time is irrelevant.

perhaps the house (if indeed this small windowless sanctuary is located in a house at all) is empty and has been for days - the furniture may be dusty, the food molding in the cupboards, windows broken, everything utterly unkempt.
perhaps.
it may be filled with guests who are having a party and wondering where i have run off to. dinner is sitting there ready to be eaten and i am no where to be seen! they may at this very moment be scuttling about here and there calling my name and searching in vain for me. the walls must be thick, i can't hear an outward thing.

in any case, no one shall find me here. who would be silly enough to entertain even the thought of a young woman my age actually sitting and dreaming in a closet?