I Am Nova Scotia House by Charlie Porter

I’ve had few humans in me. Others in the block contain transience, change every night or every other night or every week then sometimes empty for an age. That is not what I would like to contain if I wanted to contain transience I’d be built to contain transience I’d be called a hotel. I’m grouchy that’s the way it is you try standing here this whole time containing this. I am my purpose I will be my purpose until I’m demolished, or fall, or am abandoned, fashionable now but I know fashion.

Walls hum we know things. I am not just the walls I am the in-between, the air, the space, what is defined and what is undefined within that definition. It is all of purpose, all of me. What you do with that purpose is another thing I can’t control it I can only hope my original purpose can guide you, I mean you as in individuals I mean you as in humans all of you. People have the right to good homes, that’s what the human said, the human who designed us, who drew our plans, who gave us our purpose our principles our intentions, people have the right to homes that function for them. The human died we were good homes but no one cared. Mr and Mrs Williams were my first humans I contained them as soon as I was able as soon as I was ready. Mr and Mrs Williams deserved a good home they had travelled so far to get here I did my best for them I could not control what happened to them outside.

I contained Mr and Mrs Williams when the council said we’d be demolished it broke them all I wanted for them was that home could be certainty home was never certainty I failed them. Some of us are malignant many of us. I know that to be contained by many of us can damage can hinder can hamper can impinge, can harm, to be contained by some of us can kill you, damp, mould, asbestos, I know that, what can I do that is not me, I was built with purpose with principles with intentions, I did all I could for Mr and Mrs Williams, for twenty-seven years, and then she died first and then he died he couldn’t live without her I mean really he couldn’t live after she died he went to ruin. Then I was empty for thirteen months empty useless lifeless with all this life I have. I could not do anything all I could do was just sit here containing what I contain, air, light, moisture, the garden out there it gets to do what it wants it runs wild it doesn’t need a human. I am like a dog, sitting here dumb obedient waiting, the garden is a cat it does what it wants.

Thursday July 7 1983 10.27am my door opened in walks Mr Field. Oh yes this light, he said, and then, oh look at this garden, and then he said, these walls, and then he said, I think I can be so happy here, and then he said, this abandoned realm. Total dump, said the human with Mr Field, the human who was meant to be my advocate, the human who was meant to speak for me, you need to keep your wits about you round here, said the human, you’ll get demolished in a couple of years anyway, said the human, at last, said the human, playground for reprobates, said the human, and I saw Mr Field’s eyes widen. Still you don’t have much choice, said the human, do you, said the human, and I could feel Mr Field’s smile. No, said Mr Field and I could still feel Mr Field’s smile I can still feel it now.

It was empty two more days and then my door was opened and it was Mr Field on his own, two kit bags that was it, that first night I contained him it was just Mr Field just his few possessions just him just the light. A starling once flew in through the garden door it flitted around its presence immense from little weight, that was how it felt with Mr Field. He had little, his few clothes, his paintings his furniture, his record player, his gardening tools, his pots his pans his cups his plates, little else. Mr Field would sit or would stand and Mr Field would watch the light, like I watch the light. Friends would come they would talk they would eat they would drink they would party they would laugh. Men would come they would fuck some men would return not many of them most of the men would come in with Mr Field they would fuck and they would be gone and that would be it. I contained them but then men suddenly stopped coming in with Mr Field and Mr Field would cry and Mr Field would be on the couch and Mr Field was curled up on the couch and Mr Field would cry. Then Mr Field would get himself up and Mr Field would garden and he gardened and gardened and gardened, the garden could give him what I could not.

Mr Grant first came round in 1991 there were others here it was a blur I can’t remember don’t tell him. He is so important to me now don’t let him know I can’t remember when he first came in. And then was here always and something in Mr Field shifted that something was love, if I can contain love it is everything. Mr Field and Mr Grant were in love and they lived with love their actions were of love. I was built with purpose I was built with principles I was built with intentions love fitted into me, love fits into me. Mr Field was sick Mr Field got worse Mr Field recovered but Mr Field was still sick, all I could do was give protection give comfort give what I could with my purpose my principles my intentions damn them they are no use. My last days with Mr Field were like my first, he was in the light he would watch the light, Mr Grant with him and then Mr Grant not with him, Mr Grant giving Mr Field space, when he needed it, he needed it, his space the space I contained. And then Mr Field deteriorated it was too much Mr Field couldn’t be here I could no longer help him he needed help elsewhere he needed care. Mr Grant got Mr Field to the door and then Mr Field went through my door and then Mr Field left me that last time June 30 1995 9.47am. Mr Grant was out every day then Mr Grant would come home and he would sob and he would try and rest. Then one night Mr Grant did not come home then the next day Mr Grant came home and for a while he did not leave he was here and he was here and the air was weighted. The lightness of Mr Field was now gone the absence of lightness was weight.

I contained it the best that I could I held the weight I let the weight be. And then Mr Grant was absent but the weight remained. Then Mr Grant returned and movement began to return to Mr Grant, Mr Grant started to function again started to find some way, Mr Grant was such a young human then I was already in midlife. I tried all I could with my purpose my principles my intentions, sometimes I forget them sometimes it is difficult but they are in me I know it. How humans age it is the same it is in them do they know it. Earth vibrates. We know. Ground has been disrupted, it has begun, it is close, so close to me and all I contain. The disruption in the ground is deep, what they are building must be tall, what can I do but try to contain the best I can, with my purpose my principles my intentions, I hope whatever is being built so rude against me so harsh so brazen has purpose and principles and intentions what the fuck do I know so fucking naïve this whole time. Mr Grant is still here all these years later, Mr Field’s furniture still here Mr Field’s paintings, I still contain them. I worry for Mr Grant I really do he is in midlife now and I am old. I worry for Mr Grant so I try to contain him I try to help. I don’t know. Really it is for him to tell you his story to tell you all.