(picture: nowpublishers.com)I'm in my dorm right now, reveling in the wonder of finally having my own room. When I was younger, I used to play with architectural and interior design programs, designing what I imagined the perfect room/house/building. I would put art on the walls, an aquarium, way too much furniture, etc.
The one thing I never left out? A piano, sitting like a conspicuous giant in the corner of my bedroom.
Here in my dorm at Wyview, I've got some interesting things around: reams of books on the shelf above my desk, a tiny boat in a glass bottle, a map of Gotland (which I've gradually memorized this year) a painting my great friend gave me, post-its on the wall, a box I decorated with a quote by Einstein on it.
Then there's my piano.
I walk in, and I'm in love. I can't ignore it. I walk in, and I have to play it; already this week, composition is going very, very well. I've said this before (here), but wherever I am, piano is so familiar that I feel at home. Maybe that's why the transition has been so easy.
It could also be because my family keeps calling me. :)
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