My library

Even the upholstery is just the way I imagined it: light blue cushions set inside the dark blue frame, adorned with thin red seams. I run across the room and jump on top of it. Not a sound! It accepts me in its folds as if I were a volleyball. I lean back on the left arm, stretch my legs across the cushions and cover them with the flowery cotton quilt that had been carefully folded over the right arm. My next project is to imagine the placement of the bookshelves. I swiftly picture a two-storied gallery all around the perimeter of the room. The spiral staircase to the second story is buried within one of the bookcases. The balustrade is laden with flower boxes; there's a flourish of greenery all along the gallery. Then, of course, I require a desk. And a journal table! A chandelier? Or simply a few well placed torchiers and a desk lamp? I am leaning towards a combination; no amount of light is ever sufficient for me when I'm reading or writing. Okay, the gallery--done; desk--let's place it in the middle of the room for the moment being--done; chandelier and a desk lamp--done. What else? Books--a few of them are already there, I'll imagine the rest some other time. Paper, pens--I carry those in my backpack, no need to bother. A computer, a printer? But do I really want these in my library, occupying a large portion of my desk? I should probably imagine a dedicated space for them, somewhere in the corner. I probably need to expand the walls of the room to make sure everything fits comfortably. Imagining things is a tricky endeavor! In fact, I am growing more and more weary with every new leap of fancy. I need a nap. Good thing I have this pretty blue and red couch right here. Ah, that's much better. To be continued.