There is no need for conversation in this house; your words will bounce around the walls and then they'll echo in the basement and come creeping into my ears just when I hit the bed or when the sunlight hits my eyes but your words, they will linger when I open my eyes or when I'm walking to the metro station, they'll scribble themselves on the last page of my notebooks or fit themselves in between the songs I listen to while I travel to and fro the same routes till I hit the bed again.