The night was dark, and her room was dimly lit. It didn’t matter. She had her mind, her imagination.

She could fill the dark corners with swirls of pink and red.
The roof has this section of lush tropical green, the other part would have stoic evergreens of the cold. The one furthest from her was a stark and pure tundra, in the shade of grey that could almost be a white.
The floor is an optical illusion of the nighttime sky – the sky that our ancestors would see  – the one that would fire their curiosity, and the stories that emerged from that sea of uncertainty.
The walls would have murals of the greatest architecture of humanity, the insignificant events that changed the course of mankind. Images that relate everyone’s stories.

He stormed into the room, spilling the light all over her, and her room.
“Hey, wassup?”
“Nothing”, she smiled.