It seemed that corridor would never end. I had been sent by my boss to ask for some documents from the local archive. That has involved taking an elevator trip to the ground floor, to use a different staircase, to go up to the third floor, then criss cross between a maze of desks and offices to end up at the designated corridor. During that trip I had to dodge employees wanting favours from my boss, and walk briskly with a dignified air for them to believe my twenty three year old self actually worked for the Minister. Ah c’est la vie.
Finally the door I seek. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Being a really polite young lady raised to obey the rules of diplomatic decorum, my parents taught me never to barge in, but by the fifth knock I was desperate. I slowly creaked open the door; I could not see the inside of the room. I opened it all the way to find nothing but darkness. The room was pitch black, its darkness almost unnatural, as if a black hole dwelled within and was absorbing all the light. To this day I’m not sure what made me do this, but I took a step forward, a step into the unknown.