Some of the pictures of me were taken in here, too,
which might help to give a sense of the size (not large)
and general ambience, as we say in English. The first
picture was taken from the front porch. Grandmother
lies in wait between the door and the window, beyond
which is the only closet in the house.
The head of the bed backs onto the wall I stare at as
I type. The serried ranks of drawers with bookshelves
on top (a definite hazard if there is a large temblor,
against which may someone preserve us, if only
ourselves) conceal the flattened boxes, the LPs,
the cassettes, such pictures as I have not hung,
the lovely carved coffee table and one of the carved
standing lamps; the other awaits wiring but can be
spotted elsewhere behind me in the La-Z-Boy.
Did I mention that nothing in this place is square?
Definitely part of its charm, but what with that and
the parallax and the general incompetence of the
operator, there sure are some interesting lines.