With the sixth room, the sense of an overall house or building dissipated for me. It was all just rooms. Probably the kinds of places one grew up in or had lived in would determine this, like if you grew up in an apartment building maybe it would all be just rooms by the third or fourth room, whereas if you grew up in a freestanding house you’d still be trying to fit them into the first floor and imagining that the kitchen should be next or visualizing what the overall shape of the house would be and the yard around it, the lot. The neighborhood. But in the sixth room, I let go of all that. It’s pleasant, you sort of step down into it, and one wall has an angled alcove with icons in it. Which is probably worth asking some questions about. Or scrutiny. But I didn’t think much on it. There will be a seventh room. My head’s a little foggy. At this point I piled pillows on the floor and flung myself down on them like a sultan. No one is watching me.