BELIEVING IN A HIDDEN ENEMY I went up the stairs in the dark. I was trying for the one door that opens outward. That sharp noise outside-- it could be anything I am ashamed of. The world has become a closed circle I can set on my finger, and when I scratch its ridges a voice springs out of the quiet with names and praise and condemnation. It is a dark place I live in and I like it. Who would you be, downstairs in my living room, and why do you not stumble? It is a dark place, and you don't stumble.