The room that knows

It's strange how something as simple as a room can trigger a memory, a feeling, a version of yourself you don't show anywhere else. For me, that room is the bedroom.

There's something about being alone in there, often in the dark, that makes reflection easier. Not harder. The pillow catches what needs catching. Comforts you when nothing else can, or will. It doesn't ask you to explain yourself first.

I've been sitting with how intimate that room actually is. It's not just where you sleep. It's the one place that knows how you actually feel, what you actually think, who you actually are, underneath whatever version of you left the house that day.

The latest piece started as a room. It isn't one anymore. It's a sanctuary.