we started marking off areas in the apartment as 'Nothing Places', in which one could be asured of complete privacy, we agreed that we would look at the marked-off zones, that they would be nonexistent territories in the apartment in which one could temporarily cease to exist. the side of the door that faced the guest room was Nothing, the side that faced the hallway was Something, the knob that connected them was neither Something nor Nothing. the walls of the hallway were Nothing, even pictures need to disappear, especially pictures, but the hallway itself was Something, the bathtub was Nothing, the bathwater was Something, the hair on our bodies was Nothing, of course, but once it collected around the drain it was Something, we were trying to make our lives easier, trying, with all of our rules, to make life effortless. but a friction began to arise between Nothing and Something, in the morning the Nothing vase cast a Something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that, at night the Nothing light from the guest room spilled under the Nothing door and stained the SOmething hallway, there's nothing to say. it became difficult to navigate from Something to Something without accidentally walking through Nothing, and when Something - a key, a pen, a pocketwatch - was accidentally left in a Nothing place, it never could be retrieved, that was an unspoken rule, like nearly all of our rules have been.