Torn between the peaceful mien of empty bookshelves and useful spaces, I debate leaving my study in its unfinished state. Even more compelling is the thought of an entirely empty room, the four slate-colored walls surrounding a single work-table. This image doesn't square at all with my real-life career of erstwhile academic; the necessary props (books, paper, pens) singularly unsuited for laying about the room in aimless heaps.
Meanwhile, across the hall, a still-life unfolds while awaiting Mychal's paint...
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