“I think I heard some noise under the bed…” She told me. It had become a sort of ritual since this family had moved into this new house. Lucile, once midnight passed, suddenly slipped out of her blankets to whisper these words in my ear. She also always had these words, "a little boy makes noise and it keeps me from sleeping... Besides, he always speaks very loudly when he plays with his toys..."

I would then always ask her about these famous toys that made noise and to my great surprise, the answer always remained the same : She described to me shiny figurines, made of a shiny material that the little boy had once called "plastic".

Once again, she told me that the boy never heard her when she asked him to be quiet, not that he deliberately turned a deaf ear, but that he simply remained deaf to her actions as if, as if he was part of another dimension...

Another dimension, that's exactly what I was thinking about, me who hadn't slept, eaten, or breathed for years now, since my daughter and I were massacred by the German political police decades ago.