Selling the house

This house was the school of myself, lessons in how the sounds of living carry each heart on its fugue unique as a fingerprint. I walk around opening and closing doors for the sound of it, battening shutters, easing them out. The days of my youth are like still frames moving in and out of focus. Now I am trying the taps, turning on whole cataracts of sound. The years ride over them like rapids, and then it is calm and still. Already I am down river.

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