Should the walls one day happen to speak they would tell tales quite different from the ones told by those who have hid behind their covering. The art work on the wall would suddenly come to life and the characters would recite lines written in journals tied with red ribbons stored in the closet. The words would leap off the page waiting to be spoken on someones lips, to peruse somebodies tongue. These once nameless, lifeless characters would find the garments meant to be worn only on special occasions (infamous dinner parties perhaps) and put on the shoes still wrapped in the box. When evening would come they would step out into the night air looking for some place to dance until the sun came up again.