Somniphobia is a poetic representation of anxiety. Tucked away in a steamer trunk-inspired box is a delicate paper blanket, loosely woven with text that speaks of panic attacks and nightmares that recur every time the speaker tries to fall asleep. Delve deeper and find a small pamphlet at the bottom, the keeper of another voice. These two distinct voices attempt to reach one another, separate and yet united in a quest for meaning— but you will find no answers here. Answers, it turns out, are not important, are not anywhere near as valuable as the communication involved in searching for them. Disconnected, isolated, adrift; we have lost so much. It’s not about finding the perfect words, the ones that nail down the experience exactly, bestowing upon the listener a clear and complete understanding. It’s about saying the words, any words at all. It’s about the reaching out: stretching across the space between each of us to hear and to be heard. There are no answers here. But please do try to find them.