The house has always been haunted. But it hasn’t always been a house.
It is what it is. It is whatever it wants to be.
It is older than people, older than towns. It is older than birds, as old as trees, younger than stone.
It lives on dreams, then dreams itself. And as it dreams, it grows. It always has. It always will. You might as well ask tectonic plates to stay where they were born. You might as well ask the sun not to drag us down towards its heart and drown the whole solar system in its love.
The house is a labyrinth which encompasses us all.
1. Written between the 7th and the 9th of June, 2021
2. With one final sentence written in April 2022