Changing the sheet on my daughter’s crib tonight, strange flashes of faces in her room — white and black, bold stripes and contrast, large teeth and bulging eyes framed by wild hair . . . almost like the stark, menacing glee of Japanese oni masks.
These flashes, somewhere between a mental image and a visualization — not quite registered by the eyes or by the mind, but in a layer between them.
They’re there, they’re gone.
Puzzling.
Later…
Passing by the kitchen window I catch a glimpse of a dark figure striding across the roof of my neighbor’s house.
There . . . then gone.