I have heard it during dinner parties, as well as at quiet Friday night meals, exhaling from the week. I have heard it when I am alone, working the soil in the garden or reading on the sofa. Increasingly, I hear it in the middle of the night, rising up against the hum of my husband’s sleeping breath. The cry of a baby, loud enough to wake me, which doesn’t exist.
我在晚宴上聽到過它，也在安靜的週五夜晚用餐、舒緩一週疲憊時聽到過它。我獨自一人時，無論是在花園裏翻土，還是在沙發上讀書，也會聽到它。如今，我越來越常在深夜聽到它，在丈夫平穩的呼吸聲中響起。那是嬰兒的哭聲，響亮到足以把我驚醒——可實際上，這個嬰兒並不存在。
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