(Untitled)

[poison_pearl]

I find, time and time again, that I have not been adequately prepared for a life without structure; I have no appointments, no routine other than that I devise for myself and it becomes mind-numbing

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[thewordofweb]

By the time I make it past all the piles, I've forgotten the three piles of manuscripts lying on the table and I stare at the woman doing all the shelving (or rather, undoing) with a look of curiosity on my face. "Excuse me?" I ask, trying my best to be polite even though it might come out with the faintest hint of wariness. "What are you doing?"

[poison_pearl]

"You might call it cataloguing," I say, pausing to examine the fruits of my labours thus far. "At the very least, assembling something that can be catalogued."

[thewordofweb]

I crouch slowly to inspect the cataloguing and peer at the descriptions of books, finding a seat when one engrosses me to the point of reading and skimming. Literature is uncanny in that you can never read everything and when the future sprawls out before you, you miss a heavy deal. "Is there a particular reason why?" I wonder. "Are you looking for something in particular? Because if you come across something on either aquatic life structures or the geography of Holland, I could use it."

[poison_pearl]

"Nothing in particular, no," I say, holding up one volume and studying the back, where the more modern works keep their summaries. "I simply find myself in possession of a great number of empty shelves, that rather cry out to be filled. I find it is akin to looking at burned out ash in a fireplace, that sort of cold and disconcerting void you find there."

I lower the book to regard the man. "Is there a connection between aquatic life structures and the geography of Holland?"

[bodyellectric]

Elle counts the days, expecting that each one will be the last, the day that finds her finding the trigger that brings it all undone. Two weeks pass, slow and too fast. She's off the crutches. She's sick of this building, but at least she wanders under her own power now, not needing to lean on anything or anyone. She hates its corridors and curtains. She hates the fluorescent lighting and its faint industrial flicker, the way you can hear it buzz if you listen close, if it gets quiet enough in the middle of the night. She hates the familiarity of it and the strangeness alike.

The chaos of the previous week had been a delight, a change, but now it's faded to dull nothingness and she's made no progress. She sits on the arm of a chair, slumped forward, absorbed in nothing. For a while, she loses herself in thought and the muffled thump of book against book. After a while, ten, fifteen volumes, she looks up and over. "What are you doing?"

[poison_pearl]

I pause, then let another volume join its fellows in a pile as I glance over. She is familiar-I have seen her face about, I am sure-and yet, not. Perhaps it is not her I have seen wearing it about, who can be sure?

"Is it not obvious?" I ask. It may well be it is not. "I am attempting a little order, a little continuity."

[bodyellectric]

Everything here is very plain, but there is no order to it. The neatness is deceptive. Underneath that, it's all chaos, and not even the good kind.

Elle's brow furrows as she considers this, then arches. "What's the point?" she asks, then nods to the shelf. "They just grow back." It seems pretty stupidly futile, if you ask her.

[poison_pearl]

"So does hair," I say, removing another pair of books and holding one in each hand as I address her point. "Yet we cut and comb that, do we not? And rather than sweep these cuttings idly away, I have a mind to take them away and weave something more constant."

[never_atone]

Having just finished cleaning up in the kitchen, Briony walked into the rec room as she dried her hands in the worn folds of a dish towel, intending to have a bit of a sit and perhaps read after having been on her feet the whole morning. Her smile, directed at Maud, was one of pleasant recognition, and she approached with a cautious but friendly air.

"What are you collecting?" Briony asked, her gaze skimming over the titles with interest.

[poison_pearl]

"Is it not obvious? Books," I say, and then consider that as that fact is so obvious, perhaps she inquires as to which books in particular I collect. "Of all kinds. I find myself in possession of a great deal of empty shelving, and I must confess I find the vacant space more off-putting with every day that passes. It is something like looking at the face of someone who is missing an eye, I think."

[never_atone]

Given the nature of their previous encounter, Briony had not expected her answer to be quite so short. But Maud had professed herself to be much bolder in nature than Briony and, remembering this, Briony felt her own brief surprise to be unwarranted.

"Empty shelves are a great tragedy," Briony agreed. "How did you come by so many?"

[poison_pearl]

"Have you ever found something from your past life, something that had no business being in such a place as this?" I ask, turning a little so I may, from the corner of my eye, study her expression as she replies. "An object seemingly brought to this place for no reason but to disconcert and upset.-Such it was, for me, only it was a room in its entirety, rather than a single trinket."