Sometimes I wonder if buildings, at least the older ones here, have
souls. Do they talk to each other about the people (us) who live in
them? Do they commiserate? E.g.; “Oh god, they’re having another
party on my roof again and my rafters are creaking.” Or, on the
upshot, “The kids just got home from a jaunt in the park and are
crawling up my stairs like a cat!” I suspect (or hope) our building
is happy— and does not gossip *too* much with its neighbors!
