If brains are houses with many rooms then I live in the basement. It is dark and quiet. Sometimes there is the noise of movement overhead, as of water passing through pipes or something slowly digested. At times there is a bright light and the place I live in is revealed. All corners and under-stair compartments, small gaps. The walls are wet to the touch. I have grown small to fit, elongated like the adders that breed in the long grass by the beach.
