Hence the night was trouble with a lot of curves, sleepless. The curves were stretchable and their transparent beauty lasted till dawn. When father started his usual morning routines as the only cleaner, which he had been for years now, there was another trouble with another curve. When he reached where I was lying wide awake, a series of musical sounds tremendously encouraged my awakening. The sounds of his broom sweeping the fl oor, his dustpan hitting the concrete surface, his crippled leg making quick yet unbalanced steps and his unique sneezing penetrated the walls as well as my conscience.