It's interesting, this architecture stuff. Sometimes it seems so unimportant. Other times it seems to define our very existence.
I don't have a very big apartment, but the space I have is mine. It is bright and airy and light-filled, and it has my own sweat and labor in it's making. It is mine and I am glad for it.
“But, finally, on our own, looking out of the hall window onto the garden and the gathering darkness, we can slowly resume contact with a more authentic self, who was there waiting in the wings for us to end our performance. Our submerged playful sides will derive encouragement from the painted flowers on either side of the door. The value of gentleness will be confirmed by the delicate folds of the curtains. Our interest in a modest, tender-hearted kind of happiness will be fostered by the unpretentious raw wooden floorboards. The materials around us will speak to us of the highest hopes we have for ourselves. In this setting, we can come close to a state of mind marked by integrity and vitality. We can feel inwardly liberated. We can, in a profound sense, return home.”