I go upstairs and sit on my window seat with my knees drawn up to my chin and my arms wrapped around them. This is one of my favourite positions - I'm as small as I can get and soon it feels as if peas are falling softly onto the crown of my head and everything starts to taste fleecy white, like cirrus clouds, and if I close my eyes and wait for a while, a thin imprint of the winged elephant dances across the sky behind my eyelids. I can see through it a bit and it could vanish at any time but at least it's with me for a moment, shining its blue eyes onto me so that everything grows lighter.