I came across the book Century Girl. I wanted it for my coffee table, but five dollars seemed like a careless expense. I held it under my arm, I put it back.
Besides, I don’t own a coffee table.
Technically I don’t possess a living room or apartment that usually go with such a thing.
I wish I did.
I want to sit on a couch at dusk with my floral shirt unbuttoned. A steaming cup of coffee on my knee and a hand in my hair.
I want to take objects from the places I’ve been, from the people I’ve loved and put them in a place that I have made for myself.
I want to share this space with others. I can tell them to leave by nine P.M, or stay til three A.M.
I want warm lights and house plants.