The Big Red is what my landlord calls the two-story building where Heinz and I live. We rent the lower left corner.
Each morning the sun rises from the bedroom window and sets through the one in the front. The one facing the street.
Pulling up the shades has become an evening ritual. One sunset, full frame.
The dimming sun gives the room a yellow-to-pink hue. I tell myself I should never get window curtains.
A thought I dismiss each night I want to watch a movie.
Wait, what if I hand-painted them?
Nesting.
A few rugs, one ottoman and a footstool would be ideal. A lamp, essential.
The wooden floors and my iconic cerulean couch bring me joy.
The couple of doors that will close during the winter but not during summer? I find it rebellious.
I love this little nook of mine. Proving me each day how life is a subjective experience.
A mysterious one too.
Could discovering my own shadow be the first encounter I had with mystery? Was I intrigued by manoeuvring the body and controlling the projected shade?
A part of me is still is. Although, at 34 it is a different kind of shadow.
My astrologer was explaining to me how all zodiac signs have a shadow. She laughed when I assured her we Leo's don't. I mean we are, objectively, the sun.
Regardless of my sign, I do have one. Anticipating. There is a part of me still convinced that if I worry enough I can outsmart life. It is as exhausting as it sounds.
The Gitta says we have control over our work and actions but no command of the results. Double tap and tag me on this post. I must constantly remind myself to take the seat of the observer because honestly, things simply go better when I do.
When I do, it is a spectacle.
It is a striking display of magic knocking at my front door.
Every day.
A daily evening show.
