Thu, 19 May 2005

walrus jar
There was a doorway beneath the staircase in the first house I moved into after the accident, and behind that doorway was hallway which led to End-Of-Time, and while I never went that far down the hallway the people I met spoke well of it, claimed it as a religious experience, a geographic epiphany by which the sorrows of the world fell into a larger lattice of intent invisible to us who walked the world. I didn’t need to see that; I had seen too much by then, and only wanted a place to sleep and keep company, and the hallway was ideal for that. The hallway was, in a literal sense, a waiting room, and so took on the attributes of any institutional no-room. The couches were incredibly comfortable, the coffee was better than average, and no one wanted to harm me. I often considered spending the whole of my life there, but after a while I would get antsy, and want to right my wrongs, and leave the hallway for a while. This story has no ending.
(12:26.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #