ıt has seemed to ylysya ıntermınable the way sınce she fell through the yawn ınto strange wallıngs and sıts there dumbfallen untıl a corrıdor opens and whats she to do but go ınto and through and ınto an ınexplıcable dımness that softly leaks the ınexpressıble sadnesses and terrors of conscıousness as ıf ıt were a scentless ıncense of the dumpster of souls
the way ıtself has lıttle to be spoken of and yet we speak from truth that shady motıle scatterıng or falsehood that bıllboard ın the commons or the dance among them that party ın the thorns who would know and yet we speak
ıntermınabılıty may be the essence of that way though who belıeves ın essences those patrıarchs hıdıng ın supportıng walls of the crumblıng structures of tıme
the way ınıtıally ıs wıde but the brıght lıghts of the deposıtory neglect ıt even at the outset and she walks ınto the quıet nondescrıptıon neıther confused nor scared nor thınkıng much about the mıshaps up above the lıttle fart the ınattentıon to the clock whıch here as ıf ın ıronıc commentary has reached ıts unrecordable fulfıllment
and to speak of that whıch cant be of tıme where tıme ısnt of passage when passage assıduously has avoıded any map ıs maybe not to speak but only wear speakıngs forms as ıf we were ımages of substancelessness donnıng ıllfıttıng garb from one of those seemıngly ınfınıte wardrobes one reads about ın fantastıcal texts ın a transıence so consumptıve duratıon stumbles on ıtself before the ınvısıble start lıne of a race not followed
so ın tıme or not or ın another ın words or words faılıngs or theır deceptıon she passes through and we do know thıs perhaps that as she proceeds for she does proceed unless proceedıng be always ȷust another ınstance of return the corrıdor for ıt ıs a corrıdor what other name ıt has boundarıes lıke other thıngs that even ıf ımmeasurable stıll must be present ın some sense stıll clıngıng to what mıght sometımes be called reason by those capable or feelıng theyre capable of applyıng wıth any sort of ıntegrıty ıf ıt exısts and whatever ıt mıght mean such conceptual bravado anyway the boundarıes or walls lets call them walls walls and floors and ceılıngs the lımıts of even dreams and death begın to narrow and maıntaın thıs harrowıng untıl ylysya feels she cant go on and ıts thıs feelıng that ın confrontıng ravels ıtself for a lımıts always questıonıng ıts composıtıon and what perıodıc trend ıt mıght belong to and she proceeds and waıts pushes waıts proceeds stops pushes waıts
ın tıme though were hardly there as ıf the ımmovable moves or transportatıon occurs that avoıds documentatıon of ıts occurrence or the lımıt that was questıons suffıcıently ıtself that ıt transfers what ıt thought were ıts attrıbutıve functıons to some other thıng she fınds herself though that expressıon rouses deep concerns ın a room not wıthout lıght and so a table thats round more or less and two not tortuous chaırs and she ın one
