life is simple
I would have told the secrets of my life long ago but there were none: life is simple like a house of four walls and only one door through which you enter and leave. That house braced against erosion that house weighing its foundation a long way from the sea; the house that wishes to be dismantled wishes to burn down in the night or find blood on the floor; wishes a man would enter and sleep and another man, quite different, wake and depart.
Life is simple, like a house with windows drawn shut its architecture rounded by the weather its small treasures safe and dry.
