my confidence quickly faded when i realised i was in a room that was larger than life. but was colourless. white and black. there was a suit of armor standing tall in the corner of the room. i sat in a chair in front of him. i’ve always wanted to own a suit of armor. i thought they were the epitome of a haunted house. the absolute element that a haunted house required for it to be … a haunted house. as if you would somehow expect the suit to come alive at night and it would walk up and down the halls as you huddled under the covers willing it to stop. thinking you were just dreaming. thinking that if you could just make it through the night to see the light of day, everything would be all right again.

and then of course, there was the moose head looking down at me from the wall. i suppose another element of a haunted house. but there was no fireplace. i’d always think that a haunted house should have a fireplace. probably because they had them in the movies. an empty hole in the wall that would eventually be covered with a piece of garish furniture. because having that empty hole looking at you at night in the darkness begins to creep you out.

and that clock. the white, lifeless cuckoo clock. it was cold. nothing like what you’d see in say, a munich pub where the beer is flowing. You can’t be sure if you’re hot because you’re drunk or because everyone in munich is crowded into this tiny space. it made sounds - it sounded like a tiny wooden bird was struggling to get out and it never did.

it was rainy, cold, windy and wet outside. and somehow, i would have preferred if i were out there. than in that room.