00m
a corridor
scroll forward
10m
you have walked here before, though
you do not remember it.
23m
at the far end of the corridor, a small point of light.
it is no closer than when you began.
41m
to your left, a door without a handle.
to your right, a door without a frame.
62m
the carpet has been worn into a track
by feet that no longer exist.
88m
somewhere ahead, the corridor turns.
but only after you stop looking.
127m
behind you, the corridor is the same.
you cannot prove it was ever different.
181m
a moth, suspended in the air
between two distant lamps.
254m
a single page from a book lies on the floor.
you bend to read it. it says:
“the corridor does not lead anywhere.
the corridor is the somewhere.”
∞
the point of light has not moved.
you have two choices, and they are
deeper
and
surface.
or you can
turn back
— though the door behind you closed some time ago.