Hall of Infinite Doors

You shove your hand through the soft material, pulling it aside to reveal... more silk. Great hanging billows of it, streaming downward from some imperceptible point in heaven, lit from above by diffuse white, and long enough to gently kiss the floor. They hang close and quiet, so that even your slightest touch sends the fine material to motion; the floor is perfectly smooth and made of a bright, reflective white metal, so that every fold of the material is dully reflected. There seem to be no walls - the curtains continue into infinity, for all you know, as you certainly can't tell the dimensions of the room you're about to step into.

It would be very easy to lose yourself in here...