When I was a child, my family used to spend summers in a considerably large house in the city of Atlântida, on the coast of Rio Grande do Sul. I vividly remember a room that, apparently, never existed in the house. I recall that during one of my playtimes, I noticed that a specific window on the right side of the house had something different—I can't quite describe if it was a vibe or the light that seemed to be emitted from it instead of coming in. But I know that for several summers, I tried to climb that window to get into this room that had something different, almost enchanted. The few times I had a glimpse, I remember light wooden furniture and a warm sensation. However, I never managed to enter because the window was high, and even standing on stools, I couldn't see more than a glimpse of the room. I think this lasted until I was eight or nine years old when I grew tall enough to see inside without major issues—and this time, I only saw the dark and monotonous dining room. To this day, I have a very vivid memory of this place that I never really got to be in.