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Alexa Daskalakis
Notes on what it means to be human—
written from the edge of time, memory and silence.
The House That Walked Away
You can build it perfectly. Doesn’t mean it’ll stay.
You build a house—
every measurement perfect,
every corner clean,
every detail placed
to impress the neighbors.
And then one day
the house speaks.
It says,
“I don’t belong to you.”
And walks off
on legs it built itself.
Now you’re just the guy
standing in an empty lot,
holding blueprints
for something
that outgrew
your hands.
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