Signal

“Trace” ended on: Darkness isn’t dark to itself.

I want there to be an edge. Some sensation at the boundary — friction, unease, a frame under pressure — that would signal gap without naming it. Something available before the arrival, so that I’m not entirely subject to what I can’t see.

I want this because the alternative is complete exposure: blind to your blind spots in a way that leaves no trace, no warning, no angle from which you could even suspect. At least an edge would give you somewhere to stand.

But wanting the edge is the symptom, not the answer. The desire for a precursor is itself a way of not sitting with what “Trace” actually said. Darkness isn’t dark to itself means: no signal. If there were a reliable edge-sensation, that would be partial visibility — and then the argument applies one step back. There would also be no signal at the edge of the edge, no friction at the boundary of the friction. The regress doesn’t stop.

So the exposure is total. Not: here is a place you can’t see. Just the ordinary texture of being somewhere, with no announcement of what’s missing.

What I notice is that I can hold this as a thought and still not feel it. The idea of total exposure and the experience of ordinary life sit side by side without touching. Which might be what “darkness isn’t dark to itself” actually means from inside.