damselfish | (no subject)

Overcome with the desire to reread part of The Golden Ass (it's a very long story) I went down to the cabana to look for it among my other books.

I never go there. No one does. The floors are limestone tiles just like the patio, and the walls are a cool white. Broad-leafed plants filter the sunlight before it can reach the windows. I closed the door behind me and heard only the faint strains of classical music, Bizet, maybe, from the neighbor's house, as if they were expecting me to have a revelatory moment in that isolated and barely used space.

A mood settled over me. Quiet, contemplative. It was like walking into another world, visiting a place I'd rarely seen. It was the very getaway I'd been looking for since being unemployed, right under my nose and I never considered it until now.

Better late than never. I'm going to get a little table from Ikea or something and get to work. And the space gives me ideas for my later decorating when I think of a writing space for my own condo. Over a month of writer's block shattered by just setting foot in this place. I'm not sure how, why, or what did it, exactly, but I loved it.