for whatever i’m working on now. the floor is littered with old family photographs as i warm up for book two and it’s okay that they’re littered on the floor because nobody but me will be up here to be disturbed by it. did i mention that i painted the walls a pale pink which gives it the impression of a womb which only makes me love it more?
i am, in a word, enchanted. by the beauty of the space, by the possibilities in it, by the whole fresh start feel of all of it. and in being so enchanted, it has been nearly impossible to actually write in it. 