The silence imposed its self like a gust of wind from the half open door; its cold chill left me to wonder about life and its mysteries.
I always had enough time to gaze at the colours on the walls, the patterns on the ceiling, the mess on the floor.
This purple painted room was not mine, yet I invaded it with such great pleasure.
I caressed the walls to comfort me, tread on the ground for it to welcome me, soothe the bed for it to kiss my face bright. Soon it's just me and the sound of the ticking clock. The deserted images on the floor turned to majestic canvas only Picasso could have painted. I saw the dimming light.
Soon the night arrived, shadowing away the day. The sun was no longer exhibiting its beauty. The night had altered the stars into perfect constellation.
The room was now still... still with just me and my wondering thoughts.
