The ground floor room is someplace where I’m not supposed to go. Inside, it is a mystery to me, but my father seems to know it. He, at least, knows what it contains. And though I’m not to go there myself, he promises that one day we can take a “vacation” there, and he will show it to me. I imagine it as some very nice place, full of interesting things to do and friendly people. Alternately, he leaves me with the impression that the ground floor is a frightening place, full of dangers and depravity, and that’s why it’s so important I never go there by myself. Yet he never takes me. The years pass, and now I’m the age that I am now. My father has been dead for a long time.
lessons