"I find myself returning to this wall. I cannot say why. Perhaps because it refuses to tell me whether she is outside or inside. The distinction should be simple, and yet here it dissolves. This wall—it belongs to no place I can name. It could be anywhere. It is anywhere. That is its first quiet act of defiance.
And this shape before me—I have stared at it long enough to forget whether it is a painting or a window. I thought I knew once. Now I am no longer certain. A painting would hold an image still. A window would offer passage, or at least the promise of light. This does neither. Or perhaps it does both, and it is I who cannot settle the question"
