Are you sure?
You truly wish to see all of this?
Fine. Walk straight in. Let us all stand atop this table. Don’t worry, Sir, the beams are higher above. Let me help you, Ma’am. Good. Are we all comfortable?
What we see here is not an attic. It might look like one. Yes, ma’am, you can hold on to those beams. No spiders out there or anywhere.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Travis and this is where Eroteme creates his characters. There isn’t much truth in that, though. Do you see there? Beyond those chairs? That is where he keeps the character sketches of all his relatives. A personal area, tickets are priced higher than the usual tour costs.
Let us move over to the red lamp. Notice the desk used while studying his classmates in college. Ebony. Hard. 17th century. Do not ask me why the lamp is red. He keeps loads of files about his friends and, uh, what should I call them, ummm…., non-friends! This is where he keeps notes about his friends and non-friends from school and college. The dusty files contain not very interesting people. One wonders how he made so many friends. It seems he was a man on a mission. He had to collect different character sketches.
An inside source tells me that Eroteme would befriend some strange people merely to study them closely. He doesn’t agree with that, but so didn’t Dick Tracy when he went undercover against those you-know-who. Anyway, Let us move to that green desk.
Do not laugh at the yellow and pink polka dots, Sir. Kids love them. I laughed at them too. Eroteme seems to know more about kids than I do. This shelf about kids is the largest out here. I would say these records are the only ones without a personal touch from Eroteme. He says that kids are too damn good to be judged or psychoanalysed. They are too clever, he says. He spends an hour, at the least, with them in the playground or school. No, Sir, he is single. He loves kids, that is it.
That dark corner without a lamp houses a purple desk. Characters from there are never known or seen by Eroteme. They just decide to spring out.
Oh! Not again. Do not worry ma’am. The rumbling is just another idea coming in. Rarely does one get to witness this. To me it is quotidian. This one is for me. You won’t find me in the next tour out here. I might be in some story that this rumbling heralds. Have a nice day, and before you leave, drop your tickets in the recycling bin out there.