Is this room still lived in? It feels familiar, and yet abandoned. The old and the modern coexist here. The candlelight and small lights soothe me; they let the room breathe. The overhead light is too much – it’s overwhelming, laying every corner bare. I’d rather leave it off. The walls remind me of my favorite game, one that’s been with me since I was ten years old. Everything is familiar, and yet there’s something eerie in the air. My bed. My rug. My figurines. My art. And yet this room doesn’t belong to me. Nature is pushing its way in, quietly but determinedly. As if it wanted to remind me that I’m not really supposed to be here.