Under the Microscope
The House That Has No Corridors
In my dreams1 I stick, ever so slightly,2 to the surfaces of things.3 Not physically – how would that work4 – no, it’s more of a spiritual thing.5 When I wake6 I’m conscious that parts of me have remained, still attached to the landscape of my sleeping mind like fingerprints on glass.7 The effect is gradual but cumulative, and over the years so much of me has stayed behind8 that my soul is now uncertain of its home, divided between two equal realities.9
Every day, I’m less and less engaged with the world around me. I go to the office and sit at my desk because that’s what’s expected of me, but I’ve lost all interest in my work.10 I no
