... for Eyelet
Ghost heard two philosophers talking about the soul. One philosopher asked the other to imagine waking up and seeing the room in which he had fallen asleep and then looking down and not seeing his body. The ease of this thought experiment was taken as proof that the body and the soul were separate and could come apart. But this didn’t make any sense to Ghost: wasn’t seeing a function of the body? Sight is the prized organ of veracity, but its domain is positive—it sees what is there. This source of authority was also of course its failing; sight is bewildered by holes and must invent plugs to measure their depths. If the philosopher imagined waking up unable to see but able to feel he would conclude he had gone blind—it was the particular arrogance of sight that it imagined itself the sense of all senses and so not subject to a beyond, but able to be its witness.
Under this logic even ghosts must be made available to sight and so are often provided with a sheet to make visible their dematerialized bodies. These sheets are usually equipped with two holes where the eyes would be; now the ghost can see us too. But that is all they get, not even a hole for the mouth that is common courtesy for skiers and burglars. The invisible, on the other hand, are never seen in sheets and their clothes usually turn invisible with them. Our selves, imagined as discrete, here belie their ability to absorb their surroundings. It is telling that clothing would never do to make visible a ghost whose body wasn’t. But Ghost did not want to be one of those ghosts that wondered around like a big white phallus with nothing left but a gaze, so Ghost found a black sheet and cut small holes, each exactly next to the other until the eyelets became the sheet. Now Ghost was invisible and the philosophers who did not know she existed felt something cold move through them and were afraid.