Lucille

She cringed at the smoke filled room with its blood stain panels and crocodile ceramic. It took her a while to find the place. She had found it nonetheless...in spite of her difficulty to distinguish between the shock waves of her dreams and the fears that define the reality of her existence. She had travelled the distance alone, without the help of a map or an interpreter. It was supposed to be a trip to find answers, but she was sure that the hollow in her life would call for more than simple awakenings. She surveyed the room, hoping to find a clue in the mass of objects which surrounded her. Nothing. The lonely occupants scrambled to find nourishment in whatever remains they could find while she gazed randomly at piles of unread manuscripts and paraphernalia. Almost imperceptibly, she noticed the darkened window sills and webs, as if, they too, had been tainted by the sempiternal sorrows of the place...