New road path

We emerged from the stream of people and entered a narrow, but well-consecrated street. All the houses were of different colors, even though they were old and a little bit worn out. But it looked wonderful. It was a sort of worn-out charm, which reminded me of Annett. We went to the blue house where there was no front door, and she went inside. I stood and hesitated to go in or not, this is why there is no door and how it is possible to live there. Her face appeared in the hole.

“Come on in. Worried the door might vanish?” Her grin widened. “Even I took a while to adjust when I first moved here. The housekeeper can’t be bothered to keep the door open, so that’s how we roll. But no worries, the door to my studio is locked, so there’s no need to be concerned. And just to put your mind at ease, I’ll give you the keys to my front door, in case you’re not entirely sold on trusting me.”

All those words reassured me and I took the first step inside. There was a big lobby with a massive vent staircase leading up. Everything around here, too, was shabby, a little shattered, but still kind of fascinating. We went up to the second floor, which was painted the same blue colour. All the doors were white, even more gray from old age. Each door had a name written on it. How interesting it is that everyone has their own name written down, It’s just like in Germany, but every door is numbered anyway. I thought and went on with Annette.

We made a right turn and moved past a couple of rooms, eventually coming to a halt in front of the third door. The hallway was dimly lit, with faint illumination seeping in from a small window by this particular door. Annet swung open her white door, revealing a collection of sketches adhered to the inside surface of the door. Upon stepping inside, my gaze was met by an array of paintings.

The room was full of paintings and sketches. Even the walls were practically invisible because everything was covered with or filled with paintings. This room was quite tiny, and there was a single window in front of the door i that was so big that it didn’t have to turn the light on in this room for a long time. In front of the window stood an easel with a wooden chair and a small table, on which was a lot of colors and brushes that stood to a ceramic vase as if they were flowers. This room was so wonderful and so nice and to my taste, I couldn’t get enough of it. It was my childhood dream to live in these conditions or at least have my own room where I can create in peace. She represented all my wishes from my childhood, my unusual looks, the impertinence of what other people would think of you, as well as doing what I love most. I feel like she wasn’t scared to do what I was so afraid to do. She was my new idol.

I went to the center of the room and started looking at the paintings from a distance. It was very interesting, a lot of paintings were drawn with a pencil, you can see that then to continue to paint. Many were drawn as if they were drawn by other people. They were all unique and interesting. But what really bothered me the most was that there was a lot of red in all the paintings. All the paintings painted with colors, were with a huge amount of red. It was the only thing that all these paintings had in common.