I’ve spent the day going through all the stuff I pulled out of my closet to make way for the new carpet.
For the past three or four or five months, my todo list has contained a line that changed slightly from week to week (I rewrite the todo list every Saturday or Sunday evening in a little moleskine notebook), reading—with more or less profanity and specificity—”clean out closets,” so the burst pipe under the apartment, and the resultant emptying of closets was fortuitous, and I’ll be able to throw out, recycle, donate, give away, or put on ebay/craigslist, something close to 1/3rd of all the stuff, and everything else has a specific purpose or fills a specific short- or long-term need (some nostalgic items will be kept, to aid in memory of good times, bad times, and things I’ve learned but may have forgotten).
The new paint and carpet really changed my bedroom, and sorta looks like the bedroom of someone else, someone I once thought I might become, but the economy happened, and I happened, and I since abandoned that dream.
But suddenly I have that person’s bedroom… so I wonder if I can remake the rest of my apartment to match. And if I can do that, maybe I can remake myself to match the space in which I live, since it would be the space of the person I want(ed) to be, and not the space of the person I’ve since become?
Does this make sense? Is this possible?
I don’t know.
But if I can pull even part of it off, maybe I can come to feel something like this picture: calm, peaceful.
D7000. Nikon 75-150mm Zomb-E Series, extended by 100mm. ISO100, 1/3rd (APmode), f/3.5, -1EV. Minimal processing in Aperture.