The rock wall near the two-level hotel we stayed in was a false wall. I don’t mean the rock climber walls where they enslave mountains and put them indoors covered in plague buboes and pimples and geometric pustules. I mean the wall behind the simple two-level structure on the hills near the national park. I would have said rustic but it was merely simple and merely near trees. This structure could have grown anywhere. If you know the dark corners and blind walls with no names outnumber the places with names, doesn’t it fill your head like sand. If you had to tell apart one dark hallway at night looking for water. If you were paralyzed at night and had to begin counting them.
moreCategory: night
second-story stairs
I thought he was dead. How long I spent in that second-story room, thinking I was alone, when he lay so still. The mist filled everything, completely clear and attached to my optic nerve. This room is filthy and has loose water and food in it. Plastic drawers and trash. But the walls are solid and normal. The foundation below is even stronger.
👁️⬛⬛Mall/Supermarket
shirt lift
processes
Something had changed in the world and it had become bad. Going outside was dangerous. It was very bad in the field across from the parking lot. The ground was covered in sluggish lobes and it was easy to step inside the openings. I stayed in the house. I don’t think it was my house but it was where we were when it started. We didn’t remember things, or we didn’t have the ability to act on what we remembered.
He was showing me something in the second room down the hall. There was clutter everywhere and it was a small room. I stood outside and looked in. He had a large pot of soup and he opened the lid and particles or vapor came from it and filled the air like a disc of steam. It was difficult to see. It felt wrong. The soup had been in the refrigerator and was cold and congealed. He smiled and was not alarmed and was stupid and amused. He was “showing me something” but not thinking much about it. The cloud of air or particles or moisture above the pot seemed to be getting brighter or more “active” in a way that brightness does not describe. It was a kind of “bubbling” that was “dirty”. I had a really bad feeling. I reached for a white cord that was on the floor and pulled on it. Even though I was pulling it sideways and would bend the prongs, I didn’t want to go inside the room. If I went inside the room something permanent might happen to me, that had already happened to the world. I pulled the cord and I think the process stopped. But there was no way of knowing which processes had started or ended.