I love to read.
Yesterday I purchased two used books from a very used bookstore
Hemingway and Steinbeck
I lazily tossed both on top of a shelf in my office
Maybe I’ll read them at the same time
One cubby hole down sits Bukowski
which happens to be next to a few books that I’m published in
and on the floor, near my right foot, The Unabridged
Edgar Allan Poe. That’s literally the name of the book
In back of my chair is a box that I have yet to completely unpack
In the box are a number of books, books, books.
On my desk sits Final Harvest, Emily Dickinson
It’s impossible for my person to become bored
oh, and I just found Papa, A Personal Memoir written by
Gregory H. Hemingway, M.D. in back of the monitor
I could clean my office but the life would be sucked out of the
otherwise very empty room
I don’t think I’ll do that. Hell, I haven’t even mentioned what’s in the dry sink.
Personal space is a beautiful thing, if we let it be.