What walls do ...

Why not sit down by the fire while we tell you a story? You may enjoy a glass of wine, unless tea is your thing. Make yourself comfortable and just be, enjoy the moment of calm.

You see, in this room, almost right where you're sitting, we've seen so many wonderful, sad, funny, untold moments. They created my 'atmosphere', or 'ambiance' as some call it. We've been standing since the beginning. We were put here to help Roof protect everyone.

We are passers; of light, of ambulatory beings. We are mufflers; of sounds, of spaces.... We are holders; of dreams, of places. So many stories to choose from, we could go on and on... but we don't want to bore you! Though a bedtime story shouldn't be too exciting, should it?

Which one shall we tell you? Shall we tell you about the time the cat had her kittens? She settled on the carpet in front of the fire and calmly delivered 5 cute little balls of wet fur. By the time Sally woke up, the kittens had been cleaned and were drinking greedily. She wasn't too happy about the bloodstain in the carpet, but how could she be angry? They were so cute! And Smokey had done such a fine job; all alone. Nonetheless, she wasn't really alone, now was she? We were there, protecting her, giving her the warm space she needed; she wasn't alone.

We loved those kittens, even when they tickled us and tore at our clothes. Sally played with them a lot once they started running. Then, one day, her dad decided there were too many of them and they left. Smokey was sad for a few weeks. We were there for her. She rubbed herself along us, following the scratches left by her sweet babies.

You look comfortable. Maybe you would like a refill? Naw, the fire is so good. We help with that too. We hold the heat, we hold the warmth. How about another story?

When the carpet was still here, before the hardwood was repaired, we saw secret trysts and muffled the escaping noises of passion and pleasure. No one knew John and Amanda met here. Every once in a while, they found themselves here, in front of the fire, enjoying a scotch.

Oh, did we ever hold the heat on those evenings! They sat on the floor, leaning against each other and whispering, touching, kissing. Slowly or quickly, sometimes it was more torrid than the fire in our bowels, they undressed each other. Other times, they sipped their whisky and smoked a cigar while they slowly played games that made Amanda giggle and John leer. Even we got caught up in the game! They made happy voyeurs out of us. And we watched over them, guarded their sleep - sated, satisfied, safe.

And we almost cried when Jane wailed her lost love that year. You know the one; many people died and they became scared to leave the house. But, even our thick walls were unable to hold it at bay and Jane lost Edmund. She couldn't plan the usual funeral, like the one her grandmother had. She wanted to and she moaned that loss as well. We stood guard over her grief, gave her privacy since no one could celebrate Edmund's life with her.

Her grandmother's though, now that one was almost fun with all the people coming in and out constantly. Children running around, friends and family telling stories. Right here, she was laid out right here! And, yes, we made sure of it: the fire wasn't burning that day, or the one after. We wore our Sunday best, our deepest black, even if it were just for Jane and the few people still ambling about between our rooms.

But that's a sad story and who wants to hear that when relaxing in front of the fire with a good glass in hand. Oh, you fell asleep. I guess you needed it. And never forget, we are here for you whenever you need us!

Good night, sleep well!