Nothing much has changed: I am still in that part of my life where I yearn and crave to create my own physical space. Still working very hard towards that goal. In the meantime, I am happy with the two shelves that I had made last year to organize the clutter of my books and magazines. Next step would be spring cleaning, then possibly printing and framing my favorite pictures from my visual diary. So much to do!
Though I wouldn’t the walls of my future pad blue, I do want lots of wood and glass and steel. Still having a conversation with the boyfie about the difference between functional furniture and decor. At least we agree that we both like the feel of solid and sturdy materials. Nothing could be more sincere.
I don’t know why I liked this print so much. Maybe because I have a habit of compartmentalizing my life too much that I feel like meat to be sent to the butchers? Believe me, I have barely kept my sanity keeping things together.
On our trip to Vigan, I finally gave in and bought my first potted plant (http://instagram.com/p/yE-6UsLZef/?modal=true). You see, as a writer, I’ve had an aversion to seeing anything organic in my room: things have to be clean and direct and antiseptic – let my books and my mind hold all the muck and dirt of my imagination. I guess it’s a sign of my age that I have grown fond of seeing things grow, of seeing physically the effects of nurturing.
Will have to move out of the house soon as repairs can no longer be postponed. Still thinking whether I’d be joining the family in a rented place or set out on my own. If I did, what should I get first? A bed or a reading chair? I really should stop reading and working in bed.
This somewhat morbid deer tote I came home with. Along with a nice-to-the-touch leather tray. Will show you by and by what sort of things (or crap) I place on it.