You wake in a hotel room that is not the hotel room you fell asleep in the furniture is similar but not identical the curtains are heavier the light more artificial the bed too narrow and you wonder if the hotel has rearranged itself during the night to keep you confused or if you have been carried into another room by invisible attendants who specialize in such substitutions and you open the window but there is no city only another window reflecting back at you and the reflection is delayed by a fraction of a second as if your movements must first be approved before they appear back to you and it always turns out differently than you think and you wander the corridor that extends without end passing identical doors with numbers that shift every time you look at them a corridor that folds back on itself so that you are always returning to the same door without ever having left it and the carpets swallow the sound of your steps until you feel you are floating through the structure of a memory that never belonged to you.