photos by manymuses.

A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.
~ virginia woolf ~

This room has a classic feel to me. Someone who cares about detail lives in this room. Someone who pays attention to the aesthetic roams these floors.

virginia woolf lives here.

I know she does.

I can imagine her puttering around. She moves from space to space, anxious to find the *right* spot to settle, to pull herself in and get down to her writing.

She tucks her feet under her as she snuggles into the plush chair. She twirls a stray hair around her finger while the other hand holds a fountain pen, her fingers dark from ink.

She contemplates what she will put down on the page.

But when the self speaks to the self, who is speaking? – the entombed soul, the spirit driven in, in, in to the central catacomb; the self that took the veil and left the world – a coward perhaps, yet somehow beautiful, as it flits with its lantern restlessly up and down the dark corridors.
~ virginia woolf ~