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March 19, 2013

I am in the room I share with Father.

It is just over twelve feet wide, and less than seventeen feet long, but the inside wall is shorter than the outside wall. These are averages. When I say “feet”, I mean my feet. There is not much else to measure things with. The ceiling is high enough that I cannot touch it if I stand up with my arms stretched high. Father can touch it, but only just. I estimate that he is just a bit less than one foot taller than me, but he will not let me measure him.

The room has two windows along one long side, along the outside curve. There is a thick wooden door on the other long side, the inside curve. The door is not curved. It has five vertical beams and three horizontal beams. The walls are curved, because the room is in a round tower. It is near the top of the tower, and there are two beds in it.

The beds are two hand-widths wider than my bottom. I mean my hands. They are made of stone, just like the walls, with thin mattresses on top of each one. They are built against the wall and they are curved, so that you have to sleep with your back to the wall, following the curve. There is a table and sometimes Father has paper and ink.

I know how to write but I prefer to do it in my head.

Today the room has Ariadne in it. She is sitting on Father’s bed, knitting with some blue yarn that has yellow in it. She says she is making stockings for Father. She says she is a princess, and I suppose it must be true because she can go anywhere she wants to.

She does not look at me. Father says I am invisible, which is not true. He can see me.

I look at her. But looking at her makes me feel strange so I go back to counting the bricks. There are 1,217 bricks visible from the inside of the room. But that is an approximate number. I count each part-brick as half. The beds are made of stone slabs and they are too heavy to move. The bricks behind the beds don’t count. I count the bricks most days. Father says the number is not likely to change. I know that. That is why I count them.

I wish she would go away.

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