Do you remember the first hallway you've been through?

Do you remember the first hallway you've been inside?

What happens when you linger? When you let the space fester?

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For as long as I can remember, I have felt especially sensitive to these kinds of places. They offer a story that most never become aware of. A passing element to a journey to more important rooms, most don't tend to linger long. But when you linger long enough, the hall becomes it's own destination.

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What happens when somewhere that isn't mean to be a destination, becomes one?