Everyone who enters past him is met with the faint scent of laundry detergent and Tuesday night’s dinner.

Its code is known only by five individuals.

But, only those who are capable of deciphering what its body carries may enter as it detects the heart and soul of each being as it passes its borders.

He sits in silence awaiting a knock or the grooves of fingerprints against its array of numbers within its security system.

Guests are invited into the world conveyed on its body.

What lies upon his body is an acrylic rainbow, faceless robot sitting happily upon a slice of golden tiramisu on a taped canvas signed by the golden F4 member.

Four ribbons: green, green, white, and below lies silver.

Three young women are living beyond its guard of worn, faintly brown wood.

A polaroid, as beautiful as the greenery of grass illustrates the three women in all of their raw beauty and happiness together, always.

Blue tape holds together the items to the guard of F4’s body.

White scratches embellish his exterior, nonetheless is his job done was utter efficiency.

The northernmost cutout of orange construction instructs incoming individuals to possess their own power within their own hands.

The power is and will only ever be in your hands.