I was standing alone in this white egg-shaped room.

I couldn't tell how big it was because the room had no lines, no shadows, and no edges.

But it was filled with this smooth, slowly pulsating color.

I didn't have any shoes on.

Instead, I was wearing these white translucent booties.

I don't think there was sound in there, but in my memory, I've added a kind of low

pulsing sound.

The colors changed so subtly that it was difficult to tell what was even happening.

I said I was alone, but that's not quite true because standing at the very back of the

room was a woman dressed in all white with white gloves and a small white hat.

She was watching me.

She was making sure that I didn't take any more steps forward because if I did, I would

walk past an invisible line that would result in me falling six feet into a kind of unseeable

abyss.

I stood there staring at the color for a full 24 minutes before the woman gently put her

hand on my shoulder and told me it was time to leave.

This was the room that changed everything.

The room that made me finally fall in love with a place that I had thought I hated.

I'm Dylan Thores and this is Alice Obscura, a daily celebration of the world's strange,

incredible and wondrous places.

Today, we're headed to the city of second chances.

To talk about the city, I gave a second chance.

...