While an entire street scene plays out before me, complete with street performers, bicyclists with their bells, drag queens announcing their shows, I find quiet witnesses in the upper stories, almost looming in their indifference to the chaos below. The structures of Provincetown become characters in their own right. Out of context, this house looks as if it could be near any beach in New England. The casual curtains betray a transient tenant in an otherwise well maintained house. I picture a cot hanging from the attic rafters, reminding me of my first time staying in Provincetown. That was in an old ship captain’s house on the east end. It’s since been renovated, but in the mid-90s it was pretty rustic.