Night iiiiiiiiiii

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.

It was a false wall but I was too young to do anything about it. This realization only began much later. I was too busy dreaming about animals trapped in facilities. I dreamt they escaped and ran alongside the vehicle used to conduct this vacation, or maybe they fell behind. The cars were like those dark hallways, they ran out of time and we became unsynchronized from each other, every time a sibling stayed behind or you did not go with your friends.

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Dogs and wine were constructed somewhere nearby.

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There were other rock walls, rock hills, rock tunnels, and cars carved through them and only evil husks could construct these dead rivers. I was born on a dead desert planet with only evil-eyed husks to watch over me, and I did not encounter a soul besides my own except that had been mangled, extruded, distorted beyond possibility of us contacting each other. It is possible I myself am a husk which has deluded itself for the purpose of continuing adenosine triphosphate production, pH regulation, and so on.

I know that some of us fall into these dead places that have the seeming of life and things carry on but once you fall into this dead place it is impossible to encounter other souls, and you wander the only soul on a dead planet full of billions of bodies walking talking gesturing blinking, just to name but some of their features and capabilities.

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A rock in the desert. Sand-filled pockmarks and indentations my body perfectly fit. It was so warm, that rock. I cradled it and it cradled me.

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A soccer field surrounded by steep rock walls. People were trying to climb out of it.

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I don’t know where you are. But where I am, there is a woman on the lawn. It is a suburban neighborhood and it is silent and there are two naked children kneeling at her side.

There is complete stillness. And complete silence.
They are as still as the house before them.

Later, she is in the garage. Then she goes into the center of the house.

The garage has no car. It is divided by a rack or toolbench. The divider has no purpose of its own, and cannot be used.

You enter the garage from behind the house, which is always open. The front is always closed and possibly cannot be used. The back is open as a cardboard box on its side.

The thinness of the house leads to a feeling of how I should not go into it, because there would be no preamble before I was exposed to what is inside. Even entering the garage is air which realizes the house is already part of the open air.