Tuesday, March 13

Sleeping loft

Fifteen years ago I slept next to a drum kit under very different circumstances, and this time around was much more pleasant. For starters, it sparkled silently in the corner. We went to bed laaaate, after several rounds of nightcaps, and I awoke to this bottle of water that Tara left on the table next to the cozy sofa she'd covered with Frette linens. Angelic host!

The high end of the ceiling faces the driveway, but all that's visible are treetops. Pretty peaceful. If you crouch down and look through the windows on the low side, between stacks of books and floor pillows, you can see the goats and their manger. Love the rug. That's the view down the stairs, and then up the stairs, standing on the ground floor where the hall to other bedrooms intersects with the entry and the kitchen and the living spaces. It smelled like coffee.
 

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