The house is like a treehouse, a caravan or tent, or like the log cabin in 'A Little House on the Prairie.' It is very circular, and moving around in it is like moving through memory or dream, the way you keep stumbling or slipping upon something soft and worn and familiar, or the way all the time, a corner rushes towards you to enclose you in its dark arms.
Even though the house is circular, there is no single locus. You move about, searching for it, the corners rushing towards you and about it at unexpected moments. Actually, you are the one that contains that point.
Often, you look abstractly at the trees and the sky outside one of the many windows; the house holds you, and you don't want to leave the house.
The walls seem liquid, or transparent. Maybe that is why you feel a centre, constantly flowing, constantly moving. The main walls, the walls that make the house a house, are a long stream of window, a movement of foliage and cloud and sunlight...
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/locus
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