I'm staying in this place, innocuously called the Family House. It's a bit like the kind of establishment that was once called a sanitarium, as a catch-all phrase: people who were dying, people who were recovering, people who were weird and trying not to be, or just random people the rest of the world didn't quite know how to deal with. It's very very clean, not sterile, but a vast improvement over my apartment. The transient population (we are all called "guests," as we live in a...