Om udregning af rumfang 1

He is just sounds in the rooms of the house.

The more familiar I become with the night sky, the more stars that are identified, the more of the moon’s surface I see, the bigger I get. I invade space, I fill the world.

I have one single rainy day. I harvest nothing. I sow nothing. Nothing is sprouting or growing. My seasons are gone. Nothing comes of my days. They merely pass and I follow them and eat up my world and listen to the ghost in the house.