Inside the surroundings of a large but poor town on the brink of Coventry, in the middle of

nowhere, the entrance to the lodge was covered in all sorts of weeds and it was maintained worse
than the public loo’s (also covered in weed) outside. The carpets of the hallway were stained with
food and who knows what, and not too far away from the reception the grey door, one of the many,
was besmirched past your thought. Scratches looked like they were done by cats with their claws.
The surrounding you could tell was meant to be the color of magnolia but, like everything else, it
was grey. People treading on each other’s shoes like nothing happening. The lack of windows would
make you think you were beneath land. Visitors, unauthorized, strolling in, receptionist snoring.
Tramps laying on benches just outside helping to create a gloomy atmosphere.