repetition as a form of erasure
The basement goes around and around. I know this because I’ve been walking it for hours or minutes or the kind of time that doesn’t have a name, and the walls keep returning to themselves like a song stuck in a groove. The forms are set. That’s what they told me — the forms are set, we can go all the way around — but the all-the-way-around keeps erasing what came before. Each lap, the concrete forgets itself a little more. By the seventh circuit, I can’t remember if I’ve been here before or if I’m remembering someone else’s walking. ...