What Is Yours Will Come to You

I lugged my bags up to my room and collapsed onto the bed. It was on the second floor of the house and the window looked out over the backyard that was shadowed by the surrounding forest. The floor was covered in light grey carpet and the wall painted a plain off white. A dark, wooden bed took up most of the room, pale fairy lights haphazardly thrown along the headboard. Two matching bedside tables sat on either side of the bed and an empty desk sat opposite it.

When you step out of this room to the photography room on the right your feelings within the surrounding change once again. In the first room of the museum the tile is white and thus reflects light, creating yet more light in the surrounding area. The walls go from light and colorful shades to a medium tinted of gray creating a more plain mood within the room. In the side room full of photography the flooring changes from white large stone tiles to wood panel flooring. The opening to this second room is an opening the wall rather than another doorway but instead of the opening stretching all the way up to the ceiling, there is a thinner horizontal plank at the top that is an almost metallically aluminum color. The space is divided up

[He] gazed round his little room with loathing. It was a tiny little cubby-hole of a place, no more than six paces long, and so low that anybody of even a little more than average

I listened as eagerly and carefully as I had before, again, with the same motives, to keep her in front of me, to draw her forward from the context of her life and place her, as if she were an object, into the context of mine. I did not know how cruel this was. When you have never done a thing before and that thing is not simply and clearly right or wrong, you frequently do not know if it is a cruel thing, you just go ahead and do it, and maybe later you'll be able to determine whether you acted cruelly (5).

“I’ll be sure to tell Mike the door should stay open” Hector drawled out, clearly unimpressed.

“Take for instance that new house of his. It had two stories with porches, with bannisters and such things. The rest of the town looked like servants' quarters surrounding the "big house." And different from everybody else in the town he put off moving in until it had been painted, in and out. And look at the way he painted it - a glowy, sparkly white.

They arrived in a back room that was only illuminated by a few candles placed around the perimeter of the room. She motioned for him to sit on the single bench in the center of the room, to which he did.

“Of course.” I promised. A couple hours had passed and the sleep got to her, so I said another sad goodbye and left her to rest. Only one visit left…

There was a relaxing feeling coming from the room. The colors were pretty mellow such as the cream-colored walls. Although the room gave off this aura, there was a very elegant tea set in the middle of the room. The wall contained a fireplace while the corner of the room contained a combination of both a bookshelf and a desk. The desk had a pair of golden glasses that belonged to one of the men who lived in the home (I can’t recall exactly who they belonged to). Aside from these things, the room also contained what looked like a very comfortable couch. The guide stated that all of the pieces in the house aside from one fireplace and most of the replicated sales pieces in the General Store.

“I made my way down the hill toward the bus.” (Creech pg 250) When Sal sees the location of her mom’s death, she starts to partly realize that her mom will never return. Shortly after, Sal come to the realization, “That I knew , by myself, and for myself. That she was not coming back.” (Creech pg 254)

He takes a few steps through the doors and enters a foyer, walking through he notices how high the ceilings are... Cathedrals come to mind... His eyes wanders

“Wooden floors were an unknown luxury. In a single room were huddled, like cattle, ten or a dozen persons, men, women, and children. We had neither bedsteads nor furniture of any description. Our beds were collections of straw and old rags, thrown down in the corners and boxed in with boards; a single blanket the only covering.”

Finally, he arrived. As soon as he entered the building, he saw the “Out of Order” sign on the elevator. He raced up the stairs and made it into the room just in time.

The floors were swept. Curtains, a deep blue, hung straight and heavy over clean windows and the walls were neatly, uniformly painted with a warm brown. Cabinet doors were closed over their contents, the bed towards the back of the room was made, and the blanket pulled over the top was smooth and brightly colored, if a bit faded and worn. Even the herbs and candles scattered across the wooden table were done so in a systematic way, everything lining up according to some sort of order that wouldn’t be obvious to any outside observer.

that they were happy to die – “Dear mother, I came into this world in