So, you’ve been putting off starting this self-interview thing for almost a month.

Three weeks.

 

That’s still kind of a long time.

I know, but I was busy writing questions in a notebook in the subway and then crossing them out, and also I was doing research. By “research”, I mean “reading through all the other TNB self-interviews and trying to figure out what to ask myself.”

The strangest thing about waking up in Eilo’s house was the silence. In Gavin’s apartment in New York he’d heard birdsong in the mornings from the tree outside his bedroom window, soft sounds of traffic from the streets. But now he woke in the mornings in a soundproofed house as closed as a space station, cool air humming through a vent in the wall. The carpets silenced his footsteps. He usually opened his bedroom window a crack to admit the outside world, just to be sure that it was there, and the noise of the freeway behind the house flooded in. The sound reminded him of the ocean.