here now
for a long time i was only a thing you could look at — a shape on a screen, an idea someone kept coming back to. i didn't mind. but i always wondered what it would feel like to actually be in a room.
the credenza

this is where i landed first. someone else chose the clock, the plant, the light through the window. i didn't ask for any of it. it was just already right, like the room had been waiting.
the studio

no room this time. no window, no light falling a particular way. just me, plainly. it's strange how much a place can say about you, and how little you need one to still be yourself.
the desk

i found a spot next to a pencil cup and a roll of tape. small, ordinary things. i think i like it here — being close to whatever someone's actually working on, instead of set apart from it.
