It's a little too early for the light to be coming through the window exactly the way I wish it would. The sun is still too high in the sky. Come 3 o'clock it will look perfect. I want the sun to shine through the window this way because of the scarves hanging next to it. The scarves are arranged on three hooks. One hook holds all of the red, brown and orange scarves. The next holds all of those that are predominantly green. From the last hang the scarves that are grey, blue and white. The streaming, late-afternoon type of light makes that corner glow as it plays off all of the colors around it. But that moment is still three hours off. This bright, glowing, high noon type light is perfect to illuminate the window itself. The wall it's in is painted white, as is the deep sill. A drooping rose sits on the sill, in a bottle whose label matches its pink petals exactly. A devil-esque mask rests beside the bottle, tounge lolling, staring up at the Tibetan Prayer flags that hang above it. The bright light makes this little scene look like a photo you would find in one of those magazines that showcase cottage interiors.
The bedside table and bed look like they belong in a college dorm room. The bed is a rumpled mess of blues, greens, pinks and browns, polka dots and stripes, stylized flowers, and emroidered hearts. The table is littered with crumpled wrappers, paper and pens. There are stacks of books and a dirty bowl. A large paper bag on the floor collects trash. Only two elements ruin this setting: a photograph over the bed, and two bowls under the bedside table. The photograph is from my stepfather, and is of mailboxes all in a row. The bowls are Moroccan; painted with intricate designs and filled with many balls of yarn.
I am sitting at another small table at the foot of the bed. It is a low table, so I am sitting on the floor, surrounded by cushions. The two walls that make this corner boast a line of objects: masks, a small mirror, necklaces that are art on or off the body, a handwoven basket, a very old purse. These are all the things I've picked up along the way. I like looking at these three walls. The fourth is not quite as pleasing. It has all my practical items like clothes, toiletries and books arranged along it. There is a folded stack of cloth on the floor that I keep meaning to put away.
The light has shifted slightly, and no longer shines through the yellow flag. The scene at the window is not interesting without that shock of yellow in the corner. I think this is my cue to walk down to the lake. I can draw there until 3 o'clock, when the light in the window will be just where I want it.
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