To the Hotel Hallway,

Your quiet sanctuary is as enclosed as it is open.

You provide safety in your long corridors of space, to eliminate any cramped fears.

You also seclude, you knit together, and you make the smaller spaces seem even smaller and quieter.

Your walls are sturdy and always have my back. Literally.

Your floors are soft enough to let me sit for three hours, yet hard enough to make me change positions every ten minutes.

You magnify sound, and yet you hold whispers without releasing them to slip under the cracks of the many doors lining your walls.

You keep my secrets and you let me make my own.

I hope you always remember the tiny, rather extraordinary scene that happened on your stage. I think I will.

But let's keep it between us.