Ampreh

"Two eights for a clover. A clover for a door.

In Vileville, like everywhere else, there are many ways to enter people's homes,
and many locks of many shapes,for many different doors, for many different houses: 
Some very large ones that can hold the ocean, some very small and cozy, some twisted that stand upright,
some very young that smell of fresh paint and are waiting for decorations,
some dusty ones with creaky beams,and some patched up with elbow grease that hang on.

Everyone lends his house key to whoever he wants to let in: click, clack.

We show the most beautiful pieces, the most beautiful sides, the most beautiful decorated cushions and the most beautiful plates. 
Quick, quick, we hide under the beds the moldy carpets, the rusty furniture, the soiled doilies.
Quick, quick. Behind a painting are holes in the gnawed hearth of the house.
We want to feel good with people in the living room!

Be happy if a resident entrusts you with a key, a beautiful golden key to open the door of his so complex house.
Take care of the lock by carefully opening the door, because many thieves have broken into it and damaged its so old wood, once decorated with pride. 
The door creaks, it does not like to be opened. But it's better that way than condemning it, isn't it? There is always a key for the lock.

A key takes many forms, a key opens all doors. Except for one.

Leading to a single room, dark, cold and messy. Illuminated by cracks in the ceiling and holes in the walls by the pale light outside,
it lets in the draft that freezes your feet and cracks the floor that has been whining for so, so long now.
The damaged lock has had many visitors: hooks, master keys, blade. But its lock remains intact, and its door doesn't creak.
Unless you make a new key."

-Heart of my Home (Ampreh)-