The aching room was struggling to open its eyes, squinting against the glare of the sun brazenly bursting in through the blinds.
Yet once more, though out the night before, its very own people drank without giving any regard as to how hung over the room would be the next day.
Rooms embrace all that they contain. The walls have ears, listening and holding onto all that they hear. The furniture holds the energy of the moments, they are the pure tellers of the tale – if only they would be asked.
The room absorbs all that goes on within it like a sponge. And in turn the people continue to experience, and the room continues to absorb.
Every thought that crossed a mind, all words uttered, the gestures made, the grimaces revealed, each of the secrets confided or betrayed within those walls remain in the room. Literally. Isn’t that why people always say “Whatever we say will stay within these four walls?”
A constant and silent conversation takes place between the room and its people, archiving the experiences of life. That is a part of every day life for the room, to collect and contain all that occurred within it. That is why it is called a Living Room.
“Another night of merriment. Another morning of recovery. When will they ever learn? “, the room sighed as it faced the new day.excerpt from Reality Yet Unpublished by Suzy Valtsioti