Article voiceover
Bump bump. Head room is constrained. Bump bump. Door was not maintained. Hinges crackle knobble trickles, weather beats the lip. From underneath, the wind squeak-sneaks, flushing entry open. It was a guard but now it’s scarred wall-jaw broken clear. Fails to lock, relents, uncocks, letting in the day. The breeze can’t help but help itself entry by this way. Too many swings, too many dings, all too showy stings. Were this wood still tree too many rings. Outside’s in. Insides out. Yin and yang in great doubt. Houses can’t go home if they can’t shut away the world. Open mouths contain too much universe to pretend to take on shape.