I sit in a corner,leaning on a beige pillow,my beloved copy of Jane Eyre in my hands. It’s a small nook that’s more precious to me than any other material possession. It’s a small 6×6 feet loft with a simple mattress laid on the floor. The bright red sheet covering the mattress is off set by the numerous beige and wine red pillows scattered all around. The walls are lined with bookshelves,the scent of old,well-loved books with tattered spines heavy in the air. One wall contains books passed down by my grandfather,favoured by my father and cherished by me. The adjacent wall holds books I have added to an already extensive family collection.
On the other end of this wall is my corner. A simple enough place,a place that gives me somewhere to go when Reality is overwhelming.
A third wall holds stationery because on some days,you need an ink pen and creamy white paper to write upon. Rows upon rows of beautiful papers fill the shelves, but the third shelf from the bottom is different. It has a stack of midnight blue A4 sized sheets,a stack of envelopes, a wax stick, a stamp and a burner.
This shelf is where all dreams begin. It is meant for writing about only those things which are closest to your heart. Your soul is on those captivating blue sheets sealed in an envelope with wax and stamped with a beautiful filigree pattern. This is for mailing to a person who owns part of your soul.This is for reading on those days when it seems too much,too fast, too hard. This is to remind you that You can and You will. Because you once dared to dream.
The final 4th wall to complete this structure…does not exist. In it’s place is a full length window,opening to a regular city view. Rooftops and tall buildings in the distance,a tree outside the window,the road four flights down. The view reminds you that beauty and inspiration lies in the Everyday.
And finally to complete the vision, a typewriter on a table about a foot off the ground lies opposite to my corner,the 2 adjacent book walls. I see myslef sitting cross-legged in front of it,typing away for all I’m worth,Briony by Dario Marianelli playing softly in the background.