Doors

[Posted public from John W., the page contains nothing more than a partial hand-print in a dark red.]

[W. Maheu]

You okay? Silver can come through.

[Public]

Great party!

[Public.]

Is everyone alright?

Lois?

So, did anyone see the Hunger Games Friday?

[At sunrise, The Paris Opera house disappears, leaving the decrepit old grace of Passages Behind. The candles return to their dark flickering through age-scaled windows, and the hallways go quiet once more. Across every journal, the following is cryptically printed:]

It's a funhouse where the mirrors all reflect what's real
And reality's as twisted as the mirrors reveal
And the fun is finding out what the mirrors show

Reality - as perceived, as dreamed, or as one truly is.

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade!
Hide your face so the world will never find you