When I wheeled

When I wheeled around to look back into the apartment everything was closer in to me. The ceiling was enormous and small in a way that made the walls need to taper inward to hold it in place but its surface was so upon my face that I couldnt see its edges. The room had more corners and each corner had things spilling out of it, pieces of furniture backed into each other and stacked, beige foam, bits of glass beads, crevices jammed with mail circulars and unpostmarked envelopes, totemistic trinkets and fetishes from dried out gutters and medians, everything appearing in mirrored groups with other corners and vertices of shadow. The room encircled me and as I found a bit of wall to focus on while the time passed a jumble of old papers would slide into the space. It was one space facing inward. I turned off the lights that wer wedged into the bedecked shell of the room leaving on the tall gooseneck lamp that illuminated the chair that faced into the room with a low table before it. Both sat alone. Everything was gone again, not into the shadow, but into nothing. The beige light leaned in from the open door and I sat down in the chair. She shut the door behind her. She was colourless in the shade.