We walk along the path, looking for the house.
They colored the building green so it would blend in with the trees around it.
Curtains were cut short so nobody could hide behind them.
He watched movies alone so nobody could see him laugh. Or cry.
Emotions were something he didn’t feel appropriate to share.
Carpets were removed from the hardwood floors so he could hear people walking up to him.
We walk the halls where Stalin used to walk, in the house where he got away from it all.
From the nightmare that he created for so many others.