Those who live without doors

Of the inhabitants, I have no idea, our new neighbours preferring to stay indoors, writes the author

Two summers ago, past the park where we sometimes walk, work began on a house. First, there was the groundbreaking ceremony followed by a thanksgiving party in another empty plot opposite it. We saw garlands and discarded decorations and thrown scraps of catered food among which the strays foraged, appearing like foolish grooms when marigold petals stuck to their coats. As the family’s designated “walker of the dog” who preferred the route over others, I saw the ground being cleared, little tents for workers spring up, and bricks, sand, cement and metal rods appeared on the site.

The seasons changed and