sitting in my new room; spacious with huge triangular windows letting in every invisible particle of light the sun’s emitting; empty except for a bed, a chair, and a small round table. light grey flooring stretching to eight corners, four white walls, two pink ones, and two almost entirely taken up by the windows.
one person in a large empty space, free to do whatever they please, in silence or with a low hum of music coming off the ipod across the room — this is what my dreams are made of; solitude, freedom, limitlessness.
during the day, i pull the chair closer to the windows, sit in a strange position, pillow on my lap with a six hundred page book, bringing alive hundreds of scenes in this wide space, earnestly ready and willing to be filled with whatever there is to place in it.
the beautiful thing is that it doesn’t feel stark or cold or lifeless. its emptiness is not a void screaming to be filled, but a land of endless possibilities, posing from time to time to my ever changing taste and liking.
in the afternoon, i take my book and lie on the bed; new sheets smelling of unfamiliar interesting dreams. vicariously moving with the motions of the novel — too live and gripping i need a break to process its events and the speed and unexpectedness of their occurrence — my head slowly falls on the open pages and dozes off to a much needed nap.
my consciousness arouses to wakefulness a while later. the windows are black — night has fallen. this piece of information is enough for me to carry on without caring to look at a clock and confine myself to the limitations and rigidity of time. i have a good evening to experience however i want.
contrary to my usual habit of grabbing my phone and wasting my evening on its useless nonsense while eating more than i need to and talking more than i want to, i get off the bed after staying on it for long, timeless moments of tranquil silence, i make myself a big mug of tea, turn on a lamp, pull my chair from the window to the back of the room to isolate myself from the the world of street lights and occasional sounds of my siblings coming from the glass gap of the windows, and delve into the far more interesting world of my novel.
three mugs of tea and nearly a hundred pages later, my eyes unfortunately happen to fall on the unnecessary presence of the clock in the AC controller. it’s 10 pm on a monday evening, and it’s my second night in my long awaited new room.