July 5. I wrote a line without settling who it was for.
At half past nine the set came back.
I sent it to the bindery at the end of June. They sewed the five with thread and put the material number on the spine.
It is four fingers thick.
The number on the spine is one. Inside, the sub-numbers are five.
At twenty to ten I counted what had been sewn in.
The binding slip reads eight hundred and sixty-five. That is the figure from the April application.
Counting gives eight hundred and sixty-six.
The unnumbered page is sewn in too. In that same place, eleventh from the back.
The bindery did not count the pages. They will have copied the figure off the slip.
At ten I opened the first page.
The combining cover. There are eight boxes.
Title, material number, list of sub-numbers, relation, total pages, place of keeping, imprint, compiler.
Seven are filled. What I entered on the application in April has been carried across as it was.
The imprint box is empty.
At half past ten I looked at the procedure again.
It says there is a note field at the foot of the first page.
The note field is not a box. It is a line. There is no border, only one ruled line.
It says: other necessary matters. What is a necessary matter is not written.
From eleven to twelve I considered what to write.
The reason for binding the five is in the relation field.
The divergence in total pages is in the margin.
The unnumbered page is nowhere. I left it out of the summary and it did not go into the list of sub-numbers.
If I write it in the note field, that page enters a box for the first time.
Written, it becomes a hundred and seventy-eight. Unwritten, it is not yet a page and not yet not one.
At half past twelve I decided not to write it.
There was nowhere to write the reason, so I wrote it in the margin. The first margin entry of July.
At twenty to one I looked back for when I first saw the last page of the four.
The nineteenth of January. The third day of the registration work.
I wrote in the log then that it was a phrase the imprint puts at the end.
I did not write that it was a phrase written for a reader. It did not read that way.
At one I wrote something else in the note field.
One line.
This bundle passes to whoever next reads this line.
At ten past one I read what I had written.
The one receiving is inside the sentence. The person is not.
There is nowhere to write whether anyone will come to count. Nor when.
I did not write what it is that I leave.
My predecessor's line was cut off. Mine ended.
Both are missing the what.
At twenty to two I looked at the form diagram.
There is a drawing behind the procedure. Every field carries a number.
The note field is the eighth field.
In the same drawing there is the last page of a sub-number. The foot of the last page is there too.
It says: publication mark field.
Its number is the eighth field.
At twenty past two I opened the last page of the four again.
The place where the ten characters are is the eighth field.
The place where my one line is, is the eighth field.
In one set that field is one.
From three to half past three I set the two lines against each other.
The ten characters have a side that sends. They have no side that receives.
My line has a side that receives. It has no person.
One writes who is watching and does not write to whom. One writes to whom it is left and does not write who leaves it.
My name is in the compiler box. It is not in the note field.
At twenty to four I read those ten characters without sound.
We are watching a little further.
In January, registering them, I wrote that this was a phrase the imprint puts at the end.
In April I wrote that this was a relation.
Today it is in one field with my line.
At four I opened the outside reading screen.
I expanded the set's row.
The eighth field shows.
My one line is on the screen.
The side that queries reads it.
At ten past four I looked for a reply field.
There is none.
There was none in March when the one letter came. That time it was the incoming that had none.
Today it is the outgoing that has none.
There is nowhere in this room for the side that read to write that it read.
At half past four I opened the right-hand material.
Four hundred and four pages. The date on the page gained is the third of August of ninety-eight.
My log is also on its four hundred and fourth page today.
At a quarter to five I looked at my own log.
Four hundred and four pages. It is the sixth article for the box, and it did not go into the set.
The combining was applied for as five. To make it six the application must be made again.
If it is made, the name in the compiler box becomes one of the things bound.
At ten to five I opened the box.
Seven. Six impressions. The hundred and thirty-second day.
Last July's was a hundred and seven. It has gone twenty-five days past.
There is no box for entering a count that has gone past. I wrote it in the margin. The second of July.
At five I looked at the sixth box.
One thousand five hundred and twenty-seven.
At ten past five I ran off the query record. The set's row was opened five times yesterday. The eight Latin characters, four.
At half past five, closing the procedure, I saw a note under the form diagram.
There is one line in small characters.
It says: the person entering in the eighth field is deemed the compiler.
At twenty to six I opened the cover again.
My name is in the compiler box. I put it there in April.
What is written in the eighth field of the four is ten characters.
If whoever wrote those ten characters is the compiler, then the four have a compiler.
The compiler box is one.