So confining seem four walls and a ceiling, yet within them lies a story not yet complete. The world within has seen unwavering joy and sunny laughter providing light in a night no longer young. This world has also seen many a monsoon of devastation and rage as its heart bleeds darkness capable of drowning the very light cascaded from the moon's watchful eye. It's a temple is quite sacred to the one who answers its unasked questions upon the pillowed and blanketed altar. In the beginning, the four walls and a ceiling seem so terrible, depriving one from the lovely world beyond. But as the appearance of these walls evolve under the growing hands that decorate them, they become a sanctuary as their static stance grows into a trusted protector from the injustices beyond. Perhaps smaller than a single thread in the infinite cloth of the universe, it is unique and irreplaceable as the one who calls it home. Inside, the feet that walk the carpeted floor are finally lain bare, and the one above them is finally able to confront and confide in themselves, ugly bits and all. To some, a bedroom is the only place where they can truly be themselves and take off the mask that has been molded and painted by those on the outside, and the only place where the mind can rest as placid familiarity lulls it into sleep at last.