On The Roof of The House of Forgetting
On the roof of the house of forgetting, I looked down at the commotion below and saw that there was acceptance of everything I thought. The end.
On the roof of the house of forgetting, I looked down at my ideas about other people floating past. The thoughts appeared to have forms, but had no independent existence of their own. I laughed with relief and gratitude, and moments later I had fallen through the floor.
On the roof of the house of forgetting, I met 7 billiion other people. We all milled about. There were birds below, gathering materials for nests. The seemed to know exactly why they were here.
On the roof of the house of forgetting, the view was so tremendous and an unending sun rose in my heart, but I remembered that I’d forgotten my iphone, so I started downstairs. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a car, in traffic, impatient and tense, waiting for the light to change.
On the roof of the house of forgetting, I turned over in bed when snow began to fall. The cold air helped me sit up. “How did I get this body?” I wondered. I moved one of the arms up and down. It was such a new and miraculous feeling. Clouds were drifting in the sky. I could hear a child barking in the distance.
On the roof of the house of forgetting, I have no idea how I got up the (maybe?) stairs to get here, and I look down and see the ideas I’ve carried about you - drifting by below like a prepackaged snack cake, a watchable thing - much like a cloud. Did I already say cloud? Have I said this before?
On the roof of the house of forgetting, I noticed for the first time, another house - surprisingly close and obvious. When I looked again, it was gone.
