Last night as I was closing up for the evening I noticed our cats behaving very strangely – moving slowly, hesitantly, eyes wide open – as if they’d seen a ghost. And there he was, an opossum almost as big as they are, checking for seeds fallen below the feeder. And he was ghostly, in the way he paid no attention to us at all, though we were all around him.

I think about his world, so separate from mine, and I want to be in his… I want mine, too busy, too worried, too noisy, too rushed, to become ghostly – so when I turn to look more closely, it will be gone.