At night, a silence deepens—

•102/ —around him as Pan lies in bed under the heavy folds of night, a persistent silence lifting a tidal surge overhead, lingering in the ears, a hum of electricity burning in the walls, across the ceiling tiles, a constant presence within the head, a droning buzz, eternal continuum of static, sounds of murmurs in the distance, a whisper falling against the darkened lamps of the bedroom calling him to prayer.
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