I was about to sit down to write in the dining room table, when I realized: 'this is absurd; I recently bought a beautiful desk and a very comfortable desk in order to write. Why do I feel more comfortable here? This can't be'.
I moved almost all the furniture in my living room and dining room. My desk is now taking central stage in the house. I have the same view now, as I would if I were sitting in the dining room table. Perfect.
For me, that is. This is not how a traditional house looks. Usually people don't have a desk in the dining room.
That's the thing: I'm a writer and 'usual', usually kills creativity. What's important, for me, is to have a place that motivates me to write.
I can feel the spirit of Pablo Neruda giving me a pat in the back. I once had the opportunity of visiting the houses that he owned in Chile (now transformed into museums) and one of them got my attention: La Chascona, in Santiago, which is the craziest house I've ever visited. I was marveled: there was not a centimeter that could be called 'usual'. I got out of that visit feeling that Neruda knew that he could do whatever he wanted, not only in house, but in his life. Eyes all over the place? Checked. Flying angel statues? Checked. I'm a minimalist, I don't share his taste for aesthetics, and Neruda never had kids (which is not my case, and definitely influences the way a home is decorated and lived in). Still, his house made me feel liberated: he had shown me that I could do whatever I wanted with my house.
I've being more aware of this fact in certain occasions than others. Today is one of those occasions when I am.
I'm a writer, a gypsy. My family is not usual, and neither I am. I've got to make sense of all this uniqueness, and make my home more mine, more ours.
I moved almost all the furniture in my living room and dining room. My desk is now taking central stage in the house. I have the same view now, as I would if I were sitting in the dining room table. Perfect.
For me, that is. This is not how a traditional house looks. Usually people don't have a desk in the dining room.
That's the thing: I'm a writer and 'usual', usually kills creativity. What's important, for me, is to have a place that motivates me to write.
I can feel the spirit of Pablo Neruda giving me a pat in the back. I once had the opportunity of visiting the houses that he owned in Chile (now transformed into museums) and one of them got my attention: La Chascona, in Santiago, which is the craziest house I've ever visited. I was marveled: there was not a centimeter that could be called 'usual'. I got out of that visit feeling that Neruda knew that he could do whatever he wanted, not only in house, but in his life. Eyes all over the place? Checked. Flying angel statues? Checked. I'm a minimalist, I don't share his taste for aesthetics, and Neruda never had kids (which is not my case, and definitely influences the way a home is decorated and lived in). Still, his house made me feel liberated: he had shown me that I could do whatever I wanted with my house.
I've being more aware of this fact in certain occasions than others. Today is one of those occasions when I am.
I'm a writer, a gypsy. My family is not usual, and neither I am. I've got to make sense of all this uniqueness, and make my home more mine, more ours.
