What makes a home?

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

It sounded as though the wolves weren’t much different from human counterparts and juveniles – prone to foolishness and mischief, to lengths of minor mutiny and revolution when the time was right or beneficial. They’d been quite similar in their youth by the sea, racing alongside tides, calling to gulls, chasing after the pretense of vagabonds and pretending to be sleuths, heralded by the sea, the surf, and the shoal, until they were truly of age to become something for themselves. Wild and reckless, youthful and emboldened, and not yet tarnished, tainted, by the sinking of time, space, and action. Those days were long gone now.

An inkling of a smile remained, but then his concentration honed back to the manifestations around him. He raised his head from his work at the inquiry, at the way the other renderings had begun to become scattered around him, as he made piece after piece, intending to meld and mold them in conjunction, to fit within the apparatus at some point. “You can put these together,” indicating the proportions, and then tapping at the diagram with one finger, indicating the directions and sketch to follow. It would save him some time, energy, and attentiveness, and then they could complete the task that much faster.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I