A quiet, secret fire breathing itself and exhaling the sounds of its increase: the crack of shells, the tick of nut meat tossed in the bowl, cooking utensils in eternal adjustment, insect whisper, the argue of long grass, the faraway cough of cornstalks.
There was an indoor fire, hot and smoky. That was the way the people looked. Hot, smoky, dirty, angry.
The ruins of the sanctuary of the god of Fire were destroyed by fire.
It’s one thing to be fired upon and another to be warmed.
When a house is on fire, you run out before the roof collapses on your head.