There was a tall glass cabinet in the house we lived in when I was little. In it were different souvenirs collected by my mom. We were told to never open the glass cabinet because the things inside it were very delicate. At the very last shelf were tiny porcelain houses of white and deep blue. The houses had windows that were crooked. One of the houses’ roof fell slightly to the left. No two houses were ever alike. I wondered in the houses but knew with certainty and sadness, that they did not exist outside of the glass cabinet. While walking around, taking a break from IDFA, I looked at the houses at the canal and realised that the houses, though not porcelain, white, or deep blue, existed outside, the glass cabinet. In knowing this, I knew that I had never been more happy to be wrong about something, I believed to be true.