a house never complete. the one that lives in it, perennially at work—building it, decorating it, on occasion, destroying it. another house, on the same plot. a house that once was, or rather, the houses that once were. un-empty, or rather, as full as houses that once were can be. another house, on the same plot, a house the one dreams of. bursting with ambition, or despair, mutating with every passing second....
“Hey, I don’t usually do this, ask strangers, I mean, but can I borrow a cigarette?” “For a brief second I thought you were going to ask me out. Embarrassed flush I’m sorry I don’t smoke.” Awkward silence. A chance and a seat taken “You know what? This is good. I really shouldn’t be smoking” “No one should” A loud cheer in the background, some team is winning “No… I mean, I work on air pollution, and a part of me feels like I am just as bad as those corporates”...