Calibrated personal bio-function to whole house. Notes have emerged in rotating stacks of the finest foolscap. I breathe in, the house moves. I breathe in, a worm travels under the foundation. Hundreds of children run through the front door and out through the back door and behind them drop snake skins, recently shed, still sopping with snake sweat. I blink, the windows occlude. I drink sake that burns and taunts and becomes my blood. The backyard heaves, mountainous, and bursts a forest of deciduous trees in full-fall splendor. The upper ridges of my face tremble. A chain wraps the mountain, house, snake skins, me. We are pulled up, a-bundled, the chain clink frustrating the broken sound of those hundreds of children, left standing below, their faces up, mouths open.