From here, there’s a lavender wall. A painting on the wall. Two candles that argue with each other about who’s burning brighter. A lonely, nomadic, lamp that can’t seem to stay in one corner for too long. A dresser with stickers, and on those stickers, Barbie’s, and on those Barbie’s, a story. A giant gorilla, with a heart as big as the room it’s in. A chest bursting with someone’s childhood. A small set of windows whose view is nothing more than the inside of her neighbor’s home. Look down, see the wooden panels. Invisible footprints, mapping the journeys taken. Bruises from the stomps, the jumps, the leaps. Millions, billions, trillions, of dust particles. The skeleton of a bed with only the wood remaining. Walls with stories so juicy they could write a novel. Secrets so big they could start a war. Pillows filled with tears, blankets encrusted with heartbreak. Paintings candles lamps dressers gorilla’s windows footprints journeys bruises dust skeletons walls secrets pillows blankets. Paintingscandleslampsdressersgorillaswindowsfootprintsjourneysbruisesdustskeletonswallssecretspillowblankets--Yet somewhere, in the middle of it all, lies a girl. Her life set in motion by the paintings, by the candles, by the lamps, by the dressers, by the gorilla, by the windows, by the footprints, by the journeys, by the bruises, by the dust, by the skeletons, by the walls, by the secrets, by the pillows, and by the blankets. They are forever her soul, her anatomy, her oxygen. They are her, and she is them.