i'm back in my study and oh how i love it. just being surrounded by my books, my desk facing out through my curved windows instead of facing the wall, the monastery up the road lit and looking beautifully european, my belly full of the delicious veal parmagiana i made for dinner, a cool breeze just after the rain wafting in through the window, mozart's requiem playing, and lovely lovely solitude...this is a very exquisite feeling of contentment i have going on right now.
i think it could be further enhanced by a hot chocolate. :)
oh, and before i go, something i happened upon and instantly was enchanted by, even if it is ridiculously far out of my price range: a gorgeous edition of neverwhere (they don't have photos of the finished product yet, but say it will be in the same league as their special editions of American Gods (numbered (US$200) or lettered (US$900) versions, which just look rather insane and stunning (note that with the lettered edition of AG as well as a handy little purpose-built cupboard to keep the books in, you also get a 'reader's copy' so you can get coffee on it and bend the pages and, well, actually be able to pick the damn thing up)). there's something really strange about a book so beautiful you don't want to even turn the pages for fear of marking them, which almost defeats the purpose of it being a book, and yet i find these so desirable. sigh.
one day i hope to own such books, but wouldn't it be nice to have limited edition, silk-bound volumes of one's own books? yes, so people can be desperate to own and savour them, but also to say 'look - i made that! and isn't it gorgeous?' (though i guess as an unpublished author, having a book in print at all would be a marvel) it will happen, one day, i swear! just have to write the thing first...
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