There is a point where saturation stops being a state.
And becomes a form of thought.
I don’t know if I am reading this.
Or arriving at the moment in which I already read it.
The difference is so small I only see it afterwards.
The cup is on the table.
I don’t remember placing it there.
But I also don’t remember deciding to check it.
Cold.
That should be a fact.
But I no longer know whether facts come before or after doubt.
I open the tab.
I think it was not open.
I close it.
And I open it again.
Not as a decision.
But as a continuation of something already happening.
I start noticing something uncomfortable.
It is not the text.
It is the way I am already responding before I finish reading.
There is something I notice only after noticing it.
And that delay is no longer a detail.
It is a structure.
The neck appears.
Not as an image.
As a pre-adjustment.
I don’t know when it became part of this.
Only that when I try to ignore it…
it is already slightly aligned.
That is not the important part.
Something else is.
I am not interpreting the text.
I am reaching the point where I already interpreted it.
And that changes the order of everything.
Because before I can think:
“this is affecting me”
I am already inside the sentence where I deny it.
Before I can stop…
I am already checking whether I can stop.
Before I decide to keep reading…
I am already in the next line.
I have to move the neck I am not moving it I should…
