To my former self,
I am sitting in a room with a bookshelf, a bed, a bedside table, a wardrobe, a desk with a computer and printer, and a chair. You may recognise it.
In my ear a ghost once spoke: ‘I am the ghost of your life and this room is part of your future and your past.’
Dear former self I have learnt from the ghost, and when you sleep I wake and observe you read, or work on the computer, or listen to music in this room. It is almost as if I am writing to you as the ghost spoke to me. And outside I hear footsteps keeping watch.
Shall we grow old in this room? It could be a room like any other, but it is your, my former self, and my room. Is there a way to escape from our childhood spent here?
Perhaps we can escape. If we close our eyes and imagine this room, leaving this room, leaving the mourning ghost to himself forever.
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