the littlest room

is his room now... but I remember when I had a lovely writing nook there a few years ago. and before that when it was my sister's room and she nailed her incredible wall-to-wall high school major artwork up... the evolution of spaces is a curious thing.

yes, it is same the room I tell myself, but its changed... the carpet has since been removed to reveal hundred year old timber floor below, the spotty blue walls have been painted an even white - space is cleared and adorned with colourful, interesting things; books to peruse at just the right heights for its intended audience... blocks to bang and toys to explore... a myriad of cars... an alphabet quilt my aunt made for us kids to enjoy more than two decades ago... chagall prints and other colourful art and photographs above reu's beautiful wooden crib which has been kindly loaned to us by friends... an extremely comfortable rocking chair for early morning breastfeeding, and falling asleep together for midday naps... a wide window to let the fresh air and cool and sunshine and moonlight in... a big bag on the door for collecting useful cardboard, paper and plasic-y things... a beautiful rug for our toes to meet - the rug we haggled so vehemently for in morocco a few months ago - woven by hand in grey, black, white and mauve by berber women... and even a little writing nook for me too... such a wonderful room to play and sleep and write and be in.
then & now, in the littlest room... 
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