Fyodor Dostoyevsky

it was night outside. you lay in your soft and warm bed while your father worked in the next room. the night was already deep, but your attempts to sleep still did not come to success. You never saw your mother, but you always missed her, because your father treated you coldly, you felt your mother’s absence even more painfully. Every night there were nightmares in your head that you couldn’t cope with, and this was exactly the night you couldn’t sleep while Fyodor was working in his room. The soundproofing wasn't as good as everything else, so you could even hear the clack of your father's loud keyboard, which added to the drama of the whole thing

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