This room

I’ve been in this room for a long time. I sat here for a long time, when the room was smaller and I was afraid. Everywhere I turned I saw myself in these indifferent walls. But I’m no longer afraid. One day I decided to enter it as you’d enter a vast empty space, at once familiar and strange. It’s not mine, this room, there are others here too: I hear their echoes, as they perhaps hear mine. Nor is it theirs. Maybe the room belongs to the echoes themselves, these sounds that incessantly approach and escape us. They wait for us to move then surround us. I like to listen to them as though they came from both inside and outside me, and as I get up and begin to pace my steps become lighter.

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