I close my eyes to delve into my inner world. Respite. I breathe again. And I begin to perceive that it surrounds me.
I settle my hip on the bed that receives me. It is warm, comfortable and friendly.
My body can spread without skimping, because it is big, and cozy. The sheets are soft and caress my skin. She knows she harbors my most ambitious dreams and my darkest nightmares.
There are purple curtains. There are two of them and they teach me how easy it is to dance with the wind or dim the sun or perceive the light. Sometimes they caress me when the wind catches them dancing and I am close. Your touch feels good. They are soft, simple and long. They scatter from ceiling to floor.
There is a soft, white dwarf dresser. In its drawers it houses my secrets turned to paper in a sleepless night as well as my greatest hope. An application. A stay. One Love. It also accepts little-used cables and lets stones collected from the forest and snails borrowed from the sea rest on its back. Always a stack of books helps you steal at height to compete with another closet that looks at you straight on.
I feel a love between the bed and the dresser. Despite the fact that I have been rotating them around, they always end up pampering each other on the sides. And I have come to the conclusion that I am nobody to prevent that love.
Then there is the wardrobe that contains part of my energy, sometimes in circulation of interwoven garments with more or less love, some from some clandestine factory of which I know little. Clothes. I wonder what clothes are if there are times when I am not surrounded by pain or sadness. It only protects me from the cold ... Although it does cover the imposed embarrassments of showing myself naked, of showing myself as I am, when was it and who taught us that we should protect ourselves so much? Isn't it the greatest act of courage to be vulnerable, human, irresponsible? We cannot save everything. There is no place in the cabinets for so much that you keep to store.
A dwarf table that precedes the wardrobe and makes a companion of stature to the chest of drawers. With its bright strong orange and yellow colors it imposes presence throughout the room. A secret lodges in its interior part of a girl who once wrote it. She told him that she still liked to play with dolls.
The white door is almost as high as the wardrobe, although it does not understand how to contain it, but it knows how to keep secrets covering the entire interior of the room, allowing whatever happens to happen without anyone being able to avoid it. He knows everything because he has the strategic position of being in the first corner at the entrance is the one that receives and also the one that prohibits the entrance. With the dresser they are almost sisters inherited the same skin color. Contrary to the table that seems the distant cousin although they are very similar and are almost glued I suspect that they dialogue when the rest of the furniture sleeps at night.
And I who believed that the only living things in the room were me and the plant. Until today I connected with him. I was sparked by interest, I went and walked. I remembered that everything will have life when I decide through writing.