But the lounge? Well, it's actually too cold to spend time in it at the moment. This building is old and drafty wood, lots of ways for the cold air to get in. Outside, it's warming up quite a bit. I picked cherry blossoms off of a tree in the domain and put them in an Agee jar on the kitchen windowsill. Imagine this: the upward curve of a branch and a morning cup of coffee.
But back to this desk....because it took me somewhere else. It took me back to a corner of a brooklyn apartment where no one I know currently lives. And then somewhere else. Then somewhere else. And then the memory of an idea of tattoos that you smell not see. (hauntings? memories? connect-the-dots)
These are all fragments of bigger thoughts. I need a space in my room where I can have a chair and my journal waiting. I feel myself overflowing, and then emptying out onto nothing--these ideas and rambles (bushes, brambles) end up no where. I want thoughts for myself and my papers. These thoughts can then turn into art and creation and upsdiedown motions. I feel like all is connected and all is needed.
I'll keep watching freecycle. Something will surely come up again.