Noah lived in a clapboard shack, on a faultline, never still. He walked on heaving, heavy ground, grassless, thinking of vineyards. Noah lived in a tenement. Day and night, the neighbours' noise rose through the slivered hardwood, muffled, like the sound of animals. Noah lived on a barren plain, jagged and slippery, of gyroscopic dunes. He stared out a shattered seascapes, shadowless, dreaming of shore. Noah lived in a clapboard shack, above a city of noise and stink. Daily, he walked to the reailing, dreaming, landless, alone with God.