Thursday, June 26, 2008

Provincetown 24

This is my bed in P-Town. The quilt is one that my mother made. After she died, she gave my sister-in-law and me pick of the quilts. She made several and never used them herself, just put them away carefully for us.

This is the bed from a different angle, showing my nightstand and the door that goes to the kitchen/living room. I've been doing a lot of writing with my laptop on the bed. Interestingly, a lot of writers have chosen to compose while in bed.

If you have been following my blog, you will remember when I made my Walt Whitman box from a Goodwill find. It works very well for keeping fountain pen cartridges in. I also have some of my favorite earrings in the bottom drawer.
My dresser with the Walt Whitman box. There wasn't enough shelf space in the apartment, so I had to improvise, using cardboard boxes.

1 comment:

ggw07 said...

Looks like a terrific hideaway! Enjoy every minute! Gretchen

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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken

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Fave Painting: Eden

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Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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