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A lost space, by definition, is a place that slips out of the passage of time and memory

and becomes completely still. Nothing inside it moves. The air is not stirred by any breeze.

No moats of dust float in the beams of dead light that string to the bare windows and

like coldly unfaded floors. These are places where the sound seems to fall flat and the

silence presses on the ear drums like cotton. Feel free to shake your head to clear this,

but take care not to disturb anything as you do. These false vacuums are prone to collapse.

Have the slightest touch. There is the common misconception that a lost space must in fact

be a space. But from time to time, certain long forgotten objects may attract the same

inorganic stillness. These objects travel vast distances unnoticed by the rules that govern

the rest of us and slip quietly into our forests, nestle themselves in boxes to be discovered

by curious, roaming hands. They may change shape, become something else, a parasite feeding

on the life of another beloved form. A mug inexplicably duplicates itself, an anonymous

chopstick, rolls and falls and vanishes to the floor, which has never been looked at closely

by anyone until it has suddenly thrust into view as an unreliable certainty. Like their

counterpart, these objects must be handled carefully. Of these unusual objects, an excellent

example can be provided. This story comes from a small town in rural

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