An empty room has the most secrets.
Imagine the stories those walls could whisper.
Tales of
lovers and fighters
with their heated arguments and tender kisses.
Struggles for survival
trying to make rent or just make it out alive.
Someone’s last moments
or
their very first
among the sterile white hospital rooms.
Those late college nights filled with tears
and the scent of coffee brewing
or
parties on weekends
full of spirits and laughter.
Times of joy and stress during holidays
while the listening walls are decorated with care.
What about the offices of poets and authors?
Witnessing greatness as Fitzgerald and Poe
finish their respective masterpieces.
If only those walls could talk.
If only we would listen.
