Untouched, only the names keep multiplying. Since when did “rightness” start moving on its own? In the leftover spaces, meaning settles down, and I was only watching it happen. No reason left to stop it, no right left to doubt it— even those have lost their shape. It gained too much value, no one can let it go. Chained meanings run past their own shadows. I’m still not there— standing here, uninvolved. The word “choice” decides the answer first. Hesitation always arrives late. What’s breaking down isn’t the world, but how we use the boundary lines. What I believed in, what I pushed away, both drift past at the same speed. It gained too much value, lost every reason to stop. Replicating meanings copy themselves again and again. I just measure the distance— by not touching, I prove I exist. It gained too much value, no one dares to question it now. Meaning calls more meaning, rewriting the world in place. I’m still right here, inside the choice of not getting involved.
