If it rains long enough certain of the doors in my apartment will adjust and stop working, as much as a door could be said to not work. A door opens and a door closes and a door permits channels in between. But the wood swells and the doors get heavy and adjust, and one fell, a few months ago, and made a hole in the wall, shallow, the size of a thumb. We fixed the door but the hole is still there. When it’s humid and I catch a fresh wetness on a wall I fear that I may be trapped wherever I am, or that I may have unfettered passage forever, no medium, no door, like a purely open cave. I sometimes think when it gets like this that the house is alive and breathing, but that’s not right. More like, taking important breaths over time, holding them.