. . . . . . .

There is a nursery in the village whose boundaries are longhaired (the hair grows long after the living have left). Children dwell in men, if they are buildings. This man lies with its mouth covered in murals, its skeleton named by those that pass through (naming is a way of saying I know what you are). Traps bait intruders with cans’ claxon, creepers hide them. The outlines on the walls remain long after the dreamgrasses eat their inhabitants.