November 13. Soccer practice from nine to ten. Later My Little Pony, New Generation. Rode the streetcar across town to eat at Pinchos. Cut a window and door into the big cardboard box I brought the Paw Patrol plastic tower in. At bedtime, talked at length about generational spaceships and the Fermi paradox.

I seriously wonder how long and to what extent I will be needed here. Because it can hardly be more than needed-to-prevent-the-worst. My feelings for my children are exposed for what they are: biological protective mechanisms that are now running on empty. How much father do you need? What is there beyond it that wouldn’t amount to sentimentality?

The neighborhood is frighteningly quiet. All the houses have three floors, in all of them there is a narrow spiral staircase whose landings have lockable doors. There are no curtains anywhere in the large windows. All cars drive at walking speed, all restaurants are pizzerias.