Beyond the windows lie a world of surpassing beauty. Outside the windowpanes is a planet, not a mind’s eye could imagine. But this room waits. It knows not what it’s missing. This room is empty.
Once the pencil is picked and used, it is no longer lonely. The pillow no longer yearns to be smashed. The lamp is no longer shivering, the curtains rest. This room can be filled. Our hearts can be no longer empty.
We long for something more. We are not home.
If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for a different world.