One room. Visible only to me.
It exist and it doesn't.
At the same time.
Two windows. Colored in brown.
Hundreds of tenants, but only one permanent.

You can't see it. But you've been there.
You come and go, but I can't leave.
It's the place of many dreams and many nightmares.

But don't worry. That's the way it's supposed to be. I have my room and you have yours. I don't know if I've ever been in yours but you've been in mine.

Wait! I can hear something. It sounds like me. What is he talking?

Oh, he is not talking.
That's just me.
Thinking.