At lunch today with friends,
we discussed housework and
excessive, unused dusty spaces.
With an empty nest, extra space
and extra stuff seems to be
zapping my energy.
Does this sound nuts?
Anybody else have this syndrome?
(This is a petite Gothenburg apartment in Sweden.)
For sure I am romanticizing,
but the idea of having a wee space
like this to keep clean is sort
of growing on me.
Here is where I would write maybe not
a bestseller, but a book to be proud of.
I’ll need a bigger range though.
Come to mama, exposed brickwork.
I’ll share pics of my (dusty) house with the
gorgeous winter light pouring in very soon.
it’s not just the house causing me
to feel enslaved; all the technology
has me seriously considering
Peace to you right where you are.
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