Staircase Draped at the Closed Door

The landing has not become dramatic; it has simply yielded. Wood still remembers being stairs, but the structure now hangs like cloth from the closed door, turning passage into weight and drapery. The yellow saucer makes the impossible feel domestic, as if someone set it down before noticing the house had changed its mind. Vera Lune keeps the threshold quiet enough that the room seems almost able to deny what it is doing.