Seven great shelters stand in a circle against the storm, and a road runs out of the circle to an eighth. You are about to walk among them — gently, like a spirit. Every shelter answers the same thirteen questions; every storm falls on every roof. Walk, look, read. When night comes, choose where to sleep.
This walk touches grief: divorce, the death of a parent, the night questions. It was built by one man who found his home in the eighth house, and it says so. Nothing here is scored, and no door is locked. It takes about two hours. If you are in a dark place right now, walk it with someone.
For everyone being nibbled to death by small stories.