Читать книгу The President’s Room - Ricardo Romero - Страница 12

The house changes at night. Sometimes, I walk around it while my family are sleeping. The change has nothing to do with the darkness, or with the temperature. It’s as if the house changes its relationship to what’s outside it, and so being inside means something else. I press my ear against the walls, the doors, the floors, the terrace. I walk barefoot. I never go into the president’s room.

There are, in the house, at night, more inhabitants than there are during the day.