The fragrance of line-dried linens gathers in the room and swirls around with the steam of my hazelnut coffee up into the heavenly, high ceiling, white. And down again along the edge of my mind pulling me along the tail end of a dream lost many years ago. The curtains float on drifts of air breathing in and out. Deep purple shadows cast on a periwinkle blue wall have come to delight me, to call me on to an unknown destination of….artist?….writer? I don’t know. But here I sit and wait and write and wait, pen poised, waiting for the hovering words and pictures to circulate.