I walk down a long hallway and on my right is a huge oak door covered in carvings of leaves and vines. Putting my hand on the brass doorknob, I push the door open and step into a forest. The trees are thick and block out the light, but I see a path of fallen pine needles. Following this path, I am led to a clearing. The ground is full of lush grass that is soft, like a carpet. Above me is an image of a night sky, complete with thousands of stars. This room appears to be here as if by magic, for how else could trees be inside a building? There is a bed in the middle of the clearing, a huge, soft bed that is covered by a blanket the colour of theMediterranean Seaat night. I can hear, as though from a distance, the sound of thousands of crickets and, every once in a while, an owl hoots mournfully. A deeps breath yields the heady aroma of trees and grass only found in the middle of a forest. It is comforting. I would stay here a thousand years if I could, but I know that I must leave. Walking back along the path, I realize that I will probably never see this room again. The door will vanish from the hallway, never to be seen again. It is sad to think that such a peaceful room will be gone forever.