The house wasn’t always here.
The beginnings of the house unfolded like the crack of dawn, no one knew how. It was as unique as the stale bread crumb Grey flies with, now bound to fall somewhere.
The house was a piece of cold lava first. It had been friends with the inner core of earth, then tectonic plates, much later it fell on earth’s top soil through the mouth of a volcano which has not been seen ever since. The lava cooled down on millions of species who were preparing how to fly in the next two million years.
Some lives don’t lift off earth.
And so another layer of earth was added to the surface.
No, it didn’t see dinosaurs.
It saw a baby rhesus macaque after many years of first seeing amoeba protrude it false feet. Other events also took place: birthing of a lake, drying of the lake, combustion on the land. The Baby Macaque brought Mum Macaque to the place, who felt as lonely as the first amoeba might have felt. Crawling on their fours, protruding their tongues, stretching their arms, they were wanting to stay. But the mum rejected the place after smelling a rotting mould on the gravel. Meanwhile, tonnes and tonnes of rocks and stones kept forming and getting deposited over each other. Crust kept learning and earth kept swallowing velocities of varied movement. The land became a place.
Three generations of the macaque flourished in the forest nearby. After their last leader was kicked out of the group, the group began to dwindle. The leader glided from forest to forest. He had flies following him everywhere. The place which was once rejected, with time, had become a place. With more time, it engulfed that old degenerated macaque too.
Soon, shadows began to be recognised as each object’s figure fell on ground and waited there for long in day. At night, the place would develop a sweet scent, and tiny, tubular, white, star shaped objects would laden the ground. Weathers had arrived and so did people.
People saw shade under trees as a cover. Hot sun would eventually locate them; drops of rain would loop through tree’s branches, filtering down those clusters of green, hitting like icicles. Wind would uproot everything. People needed something that would stay forever.
Above them. Around them. Below them.

