The stairwell. The Real Drawn Stairwell surrounded by red velvet and old elegance.
She felt like she was placed in a drawing by an unknown artist; The painting in which she was standing seemed to be old, forgotten and at the mercy of the destructive devices of nature. Had it not been for that dusty velvet curtain, this painting could very well have been washed away by rain or eaten by rats. She shuddered at the thought of being forever stuck in this room - a room once witness to the curtsies of maidens and gentlemanly bows of men in cloak work - trying to find an exit that didn’t exist.
