machines, mirrors, leaders, falling angels, exhaustion⦠i look up and realise the sky has no frame.
Day Nineteen
The house prefers walls walls have corners corners have shadows shadows have shape the machine hums inside boundaries the mirror reflects what stands before it even the tower stops at the roof but tonight the ceiling feels⦠theoretical i stepped outside the sky had no edges no hinge no seam no reassuring line where something larger might hold it in place infinity is not loud it is quiet in a way that erases proportion the house knows how to measure its rooms it knows how to count footsteps down the hall it knows the distance from hearth to door but how do you measure endlessendlessendlessendlessendlessendlessendlessendlessendless how do you stand beneath something that refuses containment apeirophobia the fear is not falling it is that there is nowhere to land the house retreats indoors inside, the walls are honest they admit their limits
