If there was a room, an imaginative one with an ocean and shore, the horizon where the limits of the wall, chandeliers of a multitude of suspended forms formed the sky, the lights and colored windows displayed in vivid colors. They turned off and on, on their own, without an electrical switch. Chandeliers appeared, and for short periods, other lamps suspended from the ceiling appeared. Sometimes the chandeliers would change their form and then change back. There was an attractive giant chandelier with sea glass that hung down in chains, metal-like frames stacked with energy glowing from a central core, each of a different hue. It had decorative appendages that extended out with light streaming from them. The lights continuously streamed out from its core day and night, and the lights never shut down. Tiny shining lamps were orbiting around that giant chandelier, comparable to large buildings. These lamps hovered everywhere, and the ocean tides.
Think of a writer alone at night writing on a desk and a window nearby, that window revealing, as they worked at their desk, a shore that was not affected by the elements of the sky. They only listened to the waters. Chandeliers illuminated nightly workplaces into daylight.
One night came, all the chandeliers were operating, and a warm reddish glow dominated; the writer of the lone room wrote, relaxed, and contemplated. Travelers from other rooms came to visit. With a map on the desk, the writer of the room changed the landscape of the room. Spaces created in the mythical world had everything taking place there that wasn’t possible in the world of reality. Yet the writer of the room didn’t go anywhere. He retreated into many other rooms within the main room. Eventually, he became lost; that was his world. Finally, other travelers had shown him the way out. The room returned to the original seashore, then to a typical apartment.
It was found that a man resided in a hung chandelier in a room where people had lived in chandeliers. Was he aware of living in such a place? If he was one of these people in the other chandeliers, he would never have bothered or communicated with them. People lived in the chandelier rooms resembling an infinite regression of mirrors. As his room resided in another person’s chandelier. He had known for a while that travelers visiting him were from other chandeliers. They conversed with him about their experiences with other rooms; the differences and similarities of each room contained in the many thousands of chandeliers and hanging lamps.
His world was the chandeliers that turned vibrant city lights into twilight. It was his own personal world that he commanded. It was his reality, created by the gods or something else. Lately, it was said that he still continued his thing in that world; he never left it.
