The Scriptorium

Wendy and I have yet to decide upon a name for our new apartment, but the place includes a nifty little den where I conduct my studies which we've dubbed The Scriptorium. Nice, huh? It's little more than a hole in the wall, but it contains that peculiar comfort that a place shut off from the rest of the world can sometimes provide - just enough comfort, but not too much; just enough to take your mind off the world outside and to let you focus. It's entirely different from my workspace at the Trailer of Paradise, our previous residence, where I sat at my table in front of a window with a view to our small backyard and the ruined wilderness beyond. Squirrels, cardinals, and bluejays often entertained me as I worked on papers, alighting on the fence and acting out the comedy of creation. No more of that. Now I am a cloistered scholar poring over obscure texts to contribute my own yet-more-obscure conclusions amid piles of books and papers, scattered knickknacks from around the world, and a steady flow of coffee and herbal teas.