003

Atop a lonely hill, a man builds his house.

At first he has one wall. With no depth nor breadth the space lacks volume, infinitely flat and infinitely thin. It can’t keep them out and it can’t keep him in. Deep in contemplation, the man looks at the wall.

Next, there comes a second wall. Forever they travel but never do they meet. An arm’s length away yet an eternity apart, destined to follow one another to the ends of reality. The man looks at the first wall.

Then, the second. Still not connecting, a third wall is constructed. At last, closure, encapsulating yet mysterious. Definitively uncertain and deceptively comforting. Scared of what’s to come, the man quickly erects a fourth wall.

He looks at the first wall, looks at the second wall, looks at the third wall, then turns to look at you.

Don’t avert your eyes. It’s too late. How does it feel to be watched? All your lies plain to see, no deception or deceit can help you now. Impregnable invisibility stripped right from beneath your skin. The orbit of your world is lower than you think. Deep inside your soul, your self, your you. Can you feel it? It burns, it hungers and lingers. Swelling up, don’t push it back, don’t resist. Beg if you can, submit or subject. But if what you find is something that couldn’t, shouldn’t be there; couldn’t and shouldn’t exist then it needs to stop and you tell it to stop why won’t it stop just stop stop stop stop stop stop stop sto-

Maybe not the best place for a window, the man ponders. Ever the hard worker, he presses on. A floor more and a roof to top it off. A place for living. A space for himself. Yes, perfect. Just as it should be.