A room you pass through is measured by how fast you can get across it.
A room you stay in is measured by what is still going on
after the strip lights drop to half at twenty-five past ten.

For a year I was at the bus stop before the fans had finished winding down.
Now I am one of the three stacking the last of the mats,
with somebody whose name I have still not asked for,
and I could not tell you what any of those ten minutes are for.

The Book of the Ghost — Return 38:5