Today my roommate opened all the doors in the house to bring in some air. It brought in so much light and freshness, and made me think of the scene in "Finding Neverland" in which J.M. Barrie opens his bedroom door into an imaginary world, sun-filled and picturesque. That also reminds me of the part in the children's book, "Where the Wild Things Are" in which Max's bedroom transforms into a wilderness. That was always my favorite part of the story. That also reminds me of a particular ruin I found in Ireland with trees growing inside- one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. The ruins in Iceland were beautiful too. Otherworldly and ghostly; Broken furniture lying around, as though the inhabitants had simply disappeared, the remnants of their existences still preserved in pristine detail; The colors painted on the walls was the most incredible part, so rich and at the same time forgotten; colors from an old world; a Vermeer world, wherein colors breathes light, but a kind of light that only exists in possessions of the past: lights of untold and sometimes imagined memories. A very, very strange experience- standing within a ruin or long ago abandoned home. And wondering about the stories! Aren't stories incredible? Even if you don't know the story, you can feel it, and that is one of the most magical gifts of being a human.