White.

White rooms.

White hallways.

Brightly lit by light that emanated from nowhere.

They were steadfast in their structure.

Being as they were without pretense.

Then I would wake up to find them New.

A new corridor.

A titled doorframe.

A line of flight emerging from nowhere.

Sometimes I took them.

Sometimes I didn't.

At my worst I would gaze at these novelties with horrible curiosity. I would ask myself what could possibly be down them. Then, often, I wouldn't even explore them. Sometimes I was too afraid. Sometimes I was just indifferent. Sometimes I didn't even see them for what they were.

In this clean white space.

Everything can't be good.

Only certain things can be chosen.

And hopefully only those things are good.