Illustrations: England


AT NIGHT the room is cold. Freezing. Getting into bed is like slipping into an ice envelope that steals my heat. I make an igloo in the bed – under layers of blankets. Sliding down, I create a hole to breathe out of. Sleep comes heavy and takes us to strange places...

THE ROOM I now stay in is filled with people breathing. Gentle snores. Bundles of linen and heads of hair, human shapes scrunched up on mattresses in bunks. Strangers all in a room together. And you could hear every noise in the house – the creaks of the springs as people turn in their beds, the clanks of cups in the kitchen as morning comes, and my clock ticking the wrong time. On Snooze  


THE RADIO springs on in the morning and the news starts talking. Telling us about the world and how it's changing. But days can roll in and roll out, into weeks, months and years pass. Shake sleep from your hair so we don't all fall back asleep and become accustomed to the am buzz of the radio asking us to open our eyes and WAKE UP TO THE WORLD.