I wish I were Guy de Maupassant in his story Who Knows, to be able to explain how the person who had been hiding behind that purple door was swapped by the entering “me”, this taking place in a pitch dark space. Yes, because somehow I had entered that place. All my recent memories had been completely wiped out. Now I felt that I was simply, naturally, this other person, someone who had been trapped there for an indefinite length of time, until he (or rather I) noticed that the door was all of a sudden unlocked. And when I or he ---either could be the case--- eventually plucked up the courage to face the dazzling daylight and the traffic din of the street, this mirror-like confronting took place. How come? One “me” breaking free from that timeless darkness at last and another one being sucked in by spell of the purple door and its lock.