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2026
the floorboards of my house with the footprints of it’s occupants carved into it. i invited them into my house, and the floorboards remembered their steps.
a 2x4 stands at my height, with the hands of my friends carved into it. i asked them to hold it. and in return the 2x4 remembered their touch.
i remember some of the hands, and some of the footprints. what i don’t remember belongs to the space itself.
the floorboards move from horizontal to vertical, together they make a city, unowned terrain, it knows itself fully even after i forget.