spaces places spaces

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"Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity."
(Simone Weil)

I have been thinking lately of all the places that I have made home in the past few years. There was the room in Oxford, where I bought fabric from the art store to cover the walls. There was the room in Durham, with the cathedral just across the cobblestone street. There was of course the many different rooms in Chicago-land, dorms and tight attic spaces. There was the hobbit hole in Berkeley, with my trundle bed and Jess' impeccable eye for beautiful things. There was (and is) of course the morning room at home, always tinted with the scent of that earl gray candle. There was the upstairs room where I spent the last month, with the creakiest hardwood floors and slanted ceilings and Em just next door. And now there is this little basement apartment in Upper Queen Anne. Soon there will be some other unknown place in a convent in northern Italy.

I have attended many churches and had favorite coffee shops in each of these places. I have walked up and down a lot of streets. I have called a lot of spaces my own. But, I think of them all, Honey is still my favorite spot that I have claimed and felt some kind possessive relationship with. I can probably tell you a story for every table in that space: who I sat with, what we talked about, what we ate, maybe even what I was wearing. These pictures come from an afternoon spent there with Emma and Heather. We jolted off to Honey after classes one day at the end of the semester. I am missing that place. (Or, maybe, I am really just missing those lovely two.)

[all film pictures]

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