The eyes and faces all turned themselves towards me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room. 

The room was full of faces reminiscent of the past, each with memories etched into their skin. 

Their skin told tales of the past. 

The past is certain, the future is unknown; that’s what makes it so great. If we knew what was coming next, why would we bother? 

We bother because predictability is often unrewarded, much like my time in this room. 

My time in this room is a reflection. Nostalgia warms the heart, but it comes full of sadness and regret. 

The last line is different; repeating sadness and repeat isn’t healthy; just ask Sylvia. 

Opening line credit: Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar)