The Blue Hallway

There was a long and wide hallway. Upon the walls and the ceiling was every shade of blue. They seemed to bleed into one another so that one could tell that there were different shades, but not correctly identify what and where. The carpet beneath lay on top of old hardwood flooring, browned darker by age and neglect. The carpet itself was a mid-green.

Doors of the blue shades lined the walls in a way in which one side’s doors fell in between the space of the other side’s doors. Opposite the doors lay an outline of white in the shape of the doors. Upon closer examination, one finds them to actually be openings. The doors once opened reveal a wall in which a rainbow of birds seem to be stuffed in the canvas of the doorframeborders. The smell of fresh rain pervades the air, so much so that the illusion of the humidity of a summer or a soothing frigidity of autumn pour can be felt.

Many fanciful birdcalls are brought to the imagination of the occupant(s) of the hallway. The eyes are closed. This is normally followed by a sigh. For less than a second there is absolute stillness. Then the eyes open. They look down. How far away that green now seems below! The birds have left their doorframeborders and flutter the wings, pushing against green gravity. The clouds form. In the air now, in the air.