A simple orange room.

A simple orange room, with so many ghostly footprints, memories still passing through. Who knows everything that has ever happened in this room. A spare bedroom with no insight to what it was before hand. Everywhere you go. Walking down the street, you don't know who had walked before you. Outlets upon the wall, of which were plugged into the wall? A chair for who has sittin before? Simply a rocking horse, laughter, falls, we will never definitely know. Sometimes don't you like knowing that there is a past, a mystery of all these things, of the world. No one knows for sure what happened. You can't go about your life not learning something new everyday. This simple orange room, a chair, a horse, and a rug, and you will never know who has been here, at there, or looked through the window. Years from now no one will know that I had once sat here, looked there, and they will wonder. A simple orange room. Or a footprint in the sand, dissapearing memories and thoughts of who had once walked before you.