Although I’m an inanimate object, I’ve been personified in a manner I can’t explain. As you may already know, I’m aware of all that happens within my weathered brink-and-mortar exterior. The windows are my eyes and the walls are my ears. Over the years I have acquired the ethnicity of my tenants, not only by their names and accents, but by the odors of cabbage, garlic and various sauces wafting from their kitchens into halls. I lack only the power of locomotion and audible speech.