The train cuts through the fog like a blade through silk. You sit by the window. The glass is cold. Your breath fogs it. You wipe it away. The view returns. The city is a smear of gray and amber. You are not supposed to be here. You are supposed to be in the house. You are supposed to be waiting. But the house is a mouth. It eats time. It eats light. It eats you. So you ride. You ride north. You seek the taste.

You remember the first bite. It was honey. Thick. Golden. It coated your tongue. It tasted like summer. It tasted like safety. Then it changed. It became iron. It became ash. It became the taste of the void. You have been chasing that transformation for years. You want to feel it again. You want to know what it means. You think if you find the source, you will be free. You think if you swallow the secret, you will be whole.

The train stops at a station called Holloway. The air is thick. It smells of wet stone and old paper. You step off. Your feet touch the platform. The ground is solid. You look up. The building looms. It is a tower of black stone. It has no windows. It has no door. Yet you walk toward it. Your legs move on their own. They know the way. You have walked this path in your dreams. You have walked it in your fever. The walls seem to breathe. They expand. They contract. The stones shift. They rearrange. They form faces. They form eyes. They watch you.

You do not run. You are tired of running. You accept the weight. You accept the gaze. You walk into the wall. The stone is soft as flesh. It parts for you. You step through. You are inside. The air is stale. It is sweet. It is cloying. It is the taste of rot. You smell it on your skin. You taste it on your lips. You are covered in it. You are coated in it. It is the honey. It is the iron. It is the ash. You are the vessel. You are the food.

You look down. Your hands are black. Your fingers are long. They bend at wrong angles. You try to pull them back. They will not move. They are part of the wall. They are part of the stone. You look at your feet. They are roots. They have sunk into the earth. They are drinking. They are feeding. You scream. No sound comes out. Your mouth is a hole. Your throat is a pipe. You are a thing that swallows. You are a thing that keeps.

You wait. The darkness is total. It is absolute. It is kind. It does not judge. It does not ask. It simply holds. You feel the pulse of the city above. It is slow. It is deep. It is the heartbeat of the earth. You feel the roots of the trees. They are thin. They are fragile. They are dying. They are feeding you. You are feeding them. You are the exchange. You are the trade. You are the cost.

Time is a liquid here. It pools at your feet. It rises around your waist. It fills your lungs. You breathe it in. You breathe it out. You are full. You are empty. You are both. You are nothing. You are everything. You are the witness. You see the truth. It is not a secret. It is a fact. Freedom is not a door. Freedom is a wall. Freedom is the act of staying. Freedom is the act of becoming. You tried to run. You tried to flee. You tried to be separate. But you are not separate. You are the city. You are the stone. You are the taste.

You remember Margaret. She was your sister. She was light. She was air. She walked into the house. She did not look back. She became the wall. You did not know then. You did not know what it meant. You thought she was gone. You thought she was lost. But she was here. She was you. She was the voice in the dark. She was the taste on your tongue. You are not alone. You are many. You are the chorus. You are the song. The song is long. The song is sad. The song is true.

The darkness shifts. It becomes light. It is a pale, sickly light. It comes from the stones. It glows from the cracks. It is the light of decay. It is the light of life. You see the faces in the stone. They are not your faces. They are old. They are new. They are hungry. They are full. They look at you. They smile. Their mouths are wide. Their teeth are sharp. They are happy. They are free. They have given up. They have become. You understand. You cannot go back. The door is closed. The door is gone. The wall is the world. The world is the wall.

You try to move. You try to break free. You pull at your arms. You tear at the stone. It does not break. It bends. It holds. It is stronger than you. It is older than you. It is more real than you. You are the illusion. The stone is the reality. You are the dream. The stone is the wake. You close your eyes. You open your mouth. You let the taste in. You let the honey in. You let the iron in. You let the ash in. You swallow. You swallow. You swallow.

The pain is sharp. It is bright. It is clear. It is the best thing you have ever felt. It is the most real thing you have ever felt. You are alive. You are here. You are now. You are not running. You are not hiding. You are not seeking. You are being. You are the witness. You are the record. You are the story. The story ends. The story begins. The cycle turns. The wheel spins. The stone grinds. The root drinks. The taste changes. It is no longer bitter. It is no longer sweet. It is neutral. It is pure. It is the taste of being.

You are Margaret. You are the sister. You are the light. You are the air. You are the wall. You are the stone. You are the root. You are the taste. You are the city. You are the fog. You are the train. You are the passenger. You are the platform. You are the station. You are the name. You are the face. You are the eye. You are the watch. You are the keep. You are the hold. You are the wait. You are the end. You are the start. You are the middle. You are the space. You are the silence. You are the sound. You are the breath. You are the stop. You are the go. You are the stay. You are the leave. You are the come. You are the be.

The light grows brighter. It is blinding. It is burning. It is cleansing. It is destroying. It is creating. You feel yourself dissolve. You feel yourself expand. You feel yourself become. You are no longer one. You are all. You are none. You are the void. You are the full. You are the nothing. You are the something. You are the taste. You are the food. You are the drug. You are the cure. You are the poison. You are the life. You are the death. You are the life after death. You are the death before life. You are the now. You are the forever. You are the here. You are the there. You are the between. You are the within. You are the without. You are the above. You are the below. You are the beside. You are the behind. You are the in front. You are the around. You are the through. You are the across. You are the over. You are the under. You are the near. You are the far. You are the close. You are the distant. You are the known. You are the unknown. You are the seen. You are the unseen. You are the heard. You are the unheard. You are the felt. You are the unfelt. You are the thought. You are the unthought. You are the spoken. You are the unspoken. You are the written. You are the unwritten. You are the read. You are the unread. You are the told. You are the untold. You are the known. You are the unknowable. You are the truth. You are the lie. You are the real. You are the fake. You are the good. You are the bad. You are the right. You are the wrong. You are the just. You are the unjust. You are the fair. You are the unfair. You are the kind. You are the cruel. You are the soft. You are the hard. You are the warm. You are the cold. You are the wet. You are the dry. You are the bright. You are the dark. You are the loud. You are the quiet. You are the fast. You are the slow. You are the young. You are the old. You are the new. You are the old. You are the same. You are the different. You are the one. You are the many. You are the self. You are the other. You are the I. You are the they. You are the we. You are the us. You are the you. You are the me. You are the he. You are the she. You are the it. You are the them. You are the us. You are the all. You are the nothing. You are the everything.

The light fades. The darkness returns. It is not empty. It is full. It is heavy. It is warm. It is safe. You are safe. You are home. You are the wall. You are the stone. You are the taste. You are the witness. You are the story. The story is complete. The story is true. The story is you. The story is me. The story is us. The story is them. The story is all. The story is none. The story is the taste. The taste is the story. The story is the end. The end is the story. The story is the life. The life is the story. The story is the death. The death is the story. The story is the beginning. The beginning is the story. The story is the middle. The middle is the story. The story is the now. The now is the story. The story is the forever. The forever is the story. The story is the here. The here is the story. The story is the there. The there is the story. The story is the between. The between is the story. The story is the within. The within is the story. The story is the without. The without is the story. The story is the above. The above is the story. The story is the below. The below is the story. The story is the beside. The beside is the story. The story is the behind. The behind is the story. The story is the in front. The in front is the story. The story is the around. The around is the story. The story is the through. The through is the story. The story is the across. The across is the story. The story is the over. The over is the story. The story is the under. The under is the story. The story is the near. The near is the story. The story is the far. The far is the story. The story is the close. The close is the story. The story is the distant. The distant is the story. The story is the known. The known is the story. The story is the unknown. The unknown is the story. The story is the seen. The seen is the story. The story is the unseen. The unseen is the story. The story is the heard. The heard is the story. The story is the unheard. The unheard is the story. The story is the felt. The felt is the story. The story is the unfelt. The unfelt is the story. The story is the thought. The thought is the story. The story is the unthought. The unthought is the story. The story is the spoken. The spoken is the story. The story is the unspoken. The unspoken is the story. The story is the written. The written is the story. The story is the unwritten. The unwritten is the story. The story is the read. The read is the story. The story is the unread. The unread is the story. The story is the told. The told is the story. The story is the untold. The untold is the story. The story is the known. The known is the story. The story is the unknowable. The unknowable is the story. The story is the truth. The truth is the story. The story is the lie. The lie is the story. The story is the real. The real is the story. The story is the fake. The fake is the story. The story is the good. The good is the story. The story is the bad. The bad is the story. The story is the right. The right is the story. The story is the wrong. The wrong is the story. The story is the just. The just is the story. The story is the unjust. The unjust is the story. The story is the fair. The fair is the story. The story is the unfair. The unfair is the story. The story is the kind. The kind is the story. The story is the cruel. The cruel is the story. The story is the soft. The soft is the story. The story is the hard. The hard is the story. The story is the warm. The warm is the story. The story is the cold. The cold is the story. The story is the wet. The wet is the story. The story is the dry. The dry is the story. The story is the bright. The bright is the story. The story is the dark. The dark is the story. The story is the loud. The loud is the story. The story is the quiet. The quiet is the story. The story is the fast. The fast is the story. The story is the slow. The slow is the story. The story is the young. The young is the story. The story is the old. The old is the story. The story is the new. The new is the story. The story is the same. The same is the story. The story is the different. The different is the story. The story is the one. The one is the story. The story is the many. The many is the story. The story is the self. The self is the story. The story is the other. The other is the story. The story is the I. The I is the story. The story is the they. The they is the story. The story is the we. The we is the story. The story is the us. The us is the story. The story is the you. The you is the story. The story is the me. The me is the story. The story is the he. The he is the story. The story is the she. The she is the story. The story is the it. The it is the story. The story is the them. The them is the story. The story is the all. The all is the story. The story is the nothing. The nothing is the story. The story is the everything. The everything is the story.

You are still. You are stone. You are taste. You are witness. You are free. You are cost. You are paid. You are done. You are here. You are now. You are.