The massive front door, made of thick, dark wood, swung closed with barely a squeak. I heard the latch catch, and at last I was alone in my new house. Now that it was mine, I felt a powerful urge to tour my beautiful home once more. The walls, painted in deep colors--the entrance hall in hunter green, the living room in apricot, the study in carmine, the kitchen in a creamy alabaster. Each room had its own color and its own feel. The wooden paneling, dark and smooth. The rugs and runners, soft and warm and dyed in ornate patterns. The heavy wooden doors, which mostly swung easily and without a sound, cut off the sounds from outside each room, making each space a world of its own.