Hotel "Soul"

...You open the door and enter into my soul with such a look as if you are doing me a favour. You walk with dirty feet on the perfectly cleaned carpets and sit down in the chair, throwing your feet on the table. I want to call the police and finally kick you out, but I’m sorry, I forgot, I personally gave you all the keys. You're a rightful resident here, just like the others. I wouldn't mind placing you in the best apartment with a seaview. You have the biggest room, by the way. Some people are cramped and live in pairs or threes. Some people sleep in the corridor on the carpet, but even there it’s comfortable for them. You never seem to be satisfied. The colors of the bedsheets are not matching, or there's a hole in the wall from a nail you hammered in there a week ago. And I don't say a word. In fact, I like even such your visits. Your room is just too big and when it's empty, no one wants to move in. Everyone gets bored here and the drawings you had left on the walls are getting on everyone’s nerves. Sometimes I've tried to paint them out and make a few people move in, but they couldn’t stand too much space, and they all went back to their tiny cozy little rooms somewhere on the lower floors. The worst of all, when you go, you never close the door. I'm sick of it! A draft is created, and it's not good for me at all. I get cold almost immediately, I have to run around looking for heaters because the room is big and the ceiling is three meters high, so it can't be heated up in five seconds. But I can't close the door, even if I want to. You always come back. You say something about the fact that you will definitely move, and that you're very glad you finally found such a beautiful apartment. And then you go away again, without a word, to look at least one eye, if your old bed in the dormitory is free. Because there's a cat left. And how can you live without a cat? You got used to him, you want to take him with you, but he won't let you. Because he's old, one-eyed, and sick with cancer, always had been. He scratches your hands off when you touch him because he wants you to feel pain like he feels. And you keep going back and forth. And you don't close the door. You know, I think I need to order bricks and brick up the entrance. I don't need all this. I will have that room, but won't ever let anyone go inside. That's the way I'll choose, to place everyone in the corridor, while having a huge bricked-up room somewhere close to my heart. It's easier to live like this than it is for you to euthanize your cat so the animal doesn't suffer, and to get a new, healthy one.

(translated to English by me, my original text in Ukrainian: https://olgaromanchuk.blogspot.com/2016/10/hotel-soul.html)

photo: https://capellahotels.com/en/capella-singapore/