The occupant is not only their autism, and the occupant’s condition is not resolved by a single diagnosis. Although now the occupant knows the name of one of their conditions and, in a way, themselves, and lies in bed relieved. I am forty-five years old, my bed is surrounded by thirty-three square metres of space, and although in the ‘90s there was only partial knowledge of me, or perhaps just a vague impression, I was fully there. Or was I? I existed without knowledge, they said you were sensitive and they said you were brusque. My bed is 2.8 square metres, with a dip in the middle of the mattress.

The electrical system of the occupant’s heart has nothing to do with autism. The occupant’s headaches may have nothing to do with autism. The occupant’s bones, tendons, muscle tissue, fat tissue have nothing to do with autism.