House

"Ah, a house I am." — Said the house. — And it wasn’t the first time he spoke. Every morning, he cheerfully greets the neighboring buildings, who haughtily curl up their window sills in disdain. They call out to him: “Hey House!” Yet, deep down, they silently envy its unconventional kindness, as they cast upon him a dark bath of shadow. But he keeps revealing himself to the street, gleaming with ordinariness, competing with them for every sliver of attention. Perhaps this biting dialogue is his purpose, a ripple in the still waters of their bath. And maybe that’s why people like him. He makes his presence known, showing exactly what kind of a house he is. He is being himself.