I want to discover an enormous, empty house and spend weeks getting myself lost inside it.
I want to explore the thousand rooms until I’ve seen them all.
I want to tiptoe up grand staircases, in awe of their humongous size.
I want to skip through the great library and lightly run my fingertips along the spines of books.
I want to unearth all the disguised doors, hidden staircases and secret rooms.
I want to ride the dumb-waiter all the way to the top floor and then down again.
I want to venture into the dark, creepy cellar with only a candle.
I want to memorize the entire house until I can disappear in the snap of your fingers.
I want to haunt the house like a ghost, refusing to leave and unable to catch.
I want to creep up to the attic at night and watch the moon rise.
I want to fly through the rooms like a restless bird.
I want to find a secret place where I can curl up and pretend I am the only person in the world.
I want to perch upon the rooftops, staring down at the world with the leering gargoyles.
I want to shut my eyes and listen to silence and the sounds of the house breathing.
I want to be surrounded by the enormous house; tiny in its giant size, surrounded by rooms and rooms of air. Safe.
I want to be alone.