We build houses to keep our kin within, to have our belongings always at a comfortable distance, to announce the other that we own a space that distinguishes man from alien, friend from stranger, us from them. Our houses separate not only the physical space into an inside and an outside but also the behavioural configuration into guarded and masked. Every house is sacred, for they hold lives secure from the perils of the outsiders throughout the vast human timeline. Some houses contain homes too. Some for all inhabitants, some only in certain rooms, some in certain times. Regardless, these ones are above homeless houses in a virtual scale of ranks. Because houses cannot generate their own homes. They, like hermits on a shore, find houses that fit, and each one fits due to unique reasons.

We come together in little residential areas, forming villages, towns, cities to care for those who are alike, to keep infiltrators on watch, to prey together for the flourishing of unspoilt trust. We have familiar faces around, we name them, we build an agreement of commerce so that our little games will continue without disruptions. We guard our herds from sheep of different colours. What if they speak different languages? What if they come from far away? What if they have customs previously unknown to us? We protect our rules by praising who abide by them and removing others from our games. All of these precautions help, though. They help us function. They help our clans grow. They help bring our children up safe and sound. In the end, we grow as a group. We grow stronger, earn more, populate lands, allowing each member to thrive as individuals all the while.

We discover within the walls the confines of our worlds, stories from other universes, the future of our past. Walls provide the safety of isolation necessary for us to venture beyond our preliminary understanding. Our young learn within walls, they become human through exploration in our guidance, and they become good, for the walls protect them from the horrid influence of unintended exposure to dangerous people of the wider world. Walls enable us to let our guards down towards people who are, like us, safely inside so that we can paint pictures of our universes, and no dirt is there to ruin it. Insiders can enjoy what we protect from the external darkness and they can also contribute. In turn, the safety of walls usher the bridge of trust between the members of a house. They shall walk, they shall develop, they shall share, and the walls shall protect.

We read behind curtains to escape the noise and enter the world of our own. The curtains block the light that darkens the mind and the heart.

We get intimate behind the curtains to prevent our love from leaking out. The curtains conserve what’s enough only for us.

We fight behind curtains to hide the violence that resides inside. The curtains keep the shame within. The curtains keep the guilt out.

We build houses away from eyesight. We divide ourselves into two. We are free when inside and not otherwise. But our walls, they hold some captive, for the night is always too dark, mountains are always too high, and the fog is always too thick. In our houses, we are lonely. We learn it here and spread it everywhere, for one day the world will be our house, and the fear we hold will no longer exist. When the day comes, we will divide ourselves into one.
One will be enough.