The night breathed through the apartment like a dark animal. The ticking of a clock. The groan of a floorboard as he slipped out of his room. All was drowned by its silence. But Jacob loved the night. He felt it on his skin like a promise. Like a cloak woven from freedom and danger.

The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.

She had found him and was bringing back his thanks. Nor did she forget to mention that he had assured her that she was indeed the most beautiful fairy he had ever set eyes on.

Power. Intoxicating. Like a fine wine.

I like a composer called Henry Purcell, and I love to listen to Neil Young.

Down there the nights are bright and nobody believes in the Devil.

I like to visit my horse, have a walk with my dog.