I am a great pillar of white smoke.I am Lot’s nameless wife encased in salt.I am the wound on Christ’s back as he moanswith the pounding of a hammer on his wrist.I am the nail that holds my house together.It is a strong house, built on a good foundation.In the winter, it is warm and crawling thingscannot get in. This house will never burn down.It is the house that I built, with my bodyand with my strength. I am the only one who liveshere. I am both father and mother to a raceof dust motes that worship me as a god. I havemonuments built daily in my honor in darkcorners around the house. I destroy all of thembefore I go to bed, but in the morningthere are still more. I don’t think I knowwhere all of them are. I don’t think I can getto all of them anymore. There are too many.