Inside and out collide, lock horns, battle for opening of doors, windows, for blending, mixing, homogenizing. You are outside, always, engulfing, tentative, unsure. What is this fortress you are not of, know nothing of? If you waft in, what will you lose?
The fortress looks out defensively. I have a moat, a portcullis, turrets. They are mine, don’t breach. Your air is your air, and my air is my air. I warm mine with wood. What warms yours? Stay out.
You are inside the outside, and inside the inside, and that makes you outside the inside and outside the outside. You cannot tell the difference, except for the floors, though they are similar enough. The smell of fire is close, the inside oozing out.