#Entry 35
The room I'm in? You want to know the room I'm in?
Well I guess I've never really seen it as a room. But it is where I live, and where I spend 100% of my time - all the time. So I'll give it a shot. But I'll speak in a sort of riddle.
The room I'm in is warm. Constantly warm. If it's not then I die.
The room is moist. Strangley moist. Just enough moisture to insatiate my needs.
The room has a tough outer shell. Made from the finest material man could muster up. One that can be cracked. On that note, if you crack the outer walls of my room. I'm also likely to die.
The room is painted red. A deep velvet red. Red all over. Like the red you see when the sun moves down over the horizon and casts its smile across the dune ridden skies of the Sahara.
The room gives me not much space to move. In fact I can't move at all. It's a freigthening life I live actually. If I left the room I would be worthless. The room and I are one in the same in most respects.
I have one connection to the outside world. It's through a thin line that passes electrodes. I use it to control the room I'm in. To make it move. To make it sing. To make it love all that it can love.
I am the room, and the room is me.
What is the room I'm in? What am I?
Every now and again I write for 5 minutes continuously and do not stop until the timer runs out. What you read is a stream of words coming out all at once. No editing, no worrying. I find this creates amazing stories as you just have to let the words take you, rather than force them out. Enjoy.
