X The Tower
On exposure, limit, and risk
There was a winter when the building did not protect.
The tower was not insulated.
Wind moved through the window frames.
At night, the air inside was no different from the air outside.
I slept in layers.
Coats.
Wool.
Blankets that held shape but not heat.
Breath was visible in the dark.
Morning arrived without relief.
The kitchen still required fire.
Hands moved.
Knives cut.
But warmth did not return.
Fatigue began in the body.
Then it moved inward.
Thought slowed.
Language thinned.
Emotion narrowed to maintenance.
Standing upright required decision.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
There was no word for it.
Only continuation.
Meals were prepared.
Guests were received.
Inside, something had given way.
The cold was not the cause.
It was the exposure.
Nothing absorbed the strain.
Nothing intervened.
For the first time, I understood
that independence includes this risk:
Disappearance.
Winter passed.
The knowledge did not.
Collapse was not outside the work.
It was within.
—