I talk to houses.

I have ever since one has tried to kill me.

Every house has a ghost in it.

That's what my mother used to tell me, and I've always known that it's not just some dumb

superstition.

I don't believe her when she tells me that you need to apologize to tree spirits before

peeing in the woods, with it.

You have to avoid the number 4 at all costs, but I believe her when she says that every

place that people live in is also occupied by one of the dead.

Now, they're not always human ghosts.

In fact, they rarely are.

Takes an old house, one with a lot of history to bind a human soul.

Small apartment might be haunted by a ghost of a mouse, even a beetle.

Most of them, you'd never know they were there.

At least you're not supposed to.

It's not a good sign if they make themselves known to you.

It's usually means they watch out.

My house is old, lonely.

It's pretty much guarantees it's a human ghost in it.

It's small and creaky, and a small mountain town in the south of Taiwan.

Three hour journey away from the closest decent sized city.

It wasn't an exciting place to live, but I was happy here.

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