There's silence in this room.
Empty.
No, not that.
Though full of fabrics, wools and leathers
fashioned into sofas and chairs and cushions
and curtains and carpets.
Woods, metals, glass, papers and plastics
shaped into cupboards, chattels and
tech and words to distract.
Overwhelmed by furnishings in
a living room.
Living Room! I laugh!
Ha!
This is an existing room.
All this stuff... and me.
Only me.
Desolate.
Silence, apart from my breath and sighs.
Empty of living.
Full of lonely.
I wonder what would happen if -
I found a way to stop the breath?
Then - oh, then - it would be
more empty than before -
A Death Room.
Maybe I contribute more to this Living Room than I thought.
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