the world where you live is based on whole's memories. the house is his own, so it stays pretty consistent. the living room, the kitchen, a couple extra bedrooms for his thirds to live in... the town outside is a different story, a jumbled mess of childhood memories and landmarks and half-remembered street names.
no one lives there, of course. there's no one working the register at the corner store that whole used to visit as a kid, the one with the far too tall shelves, because that's how tall they were to whole at the time. no one lives in any of the nearby houses - in fact, there's nothing in them at all. the doors are painted on. whole never visits his neighbors, after all. no one works at the bakery downtown, though it always smells of fresh bread.
the world changes between loops as whole misremembers things. the streets don't intersect like they're supposed to anymore because whole doesn't know where they're supposed to meet. you're on one street, and then suddenly, you phase to another. there's no connective tissue. everything feels dreamlike, like those dreams where you're at your old school and then suddenly you're in the supermarket but the layout is all wrong.
it's always daytime, but the stars are still in the sky. how long has it been since you saw the moon? probably not since you locked him away.
the books in the library don't have titles. there are words in them, sure, but you don't understand any of it. whole never read these books. the bakery smells different now, and yet you still instinctually know that it's the smell of bread. did it change at all? are you going crazy? you're in the attic of his grandmother's house now. you don't even know her name. it still smells like bread.
the world where you live is based on whole's memories. he doesn't go outside much anymore.