Emelia in Montreal
Ohhh yes. Hello. My perfect home, I have found you.
You are cluttered and strange. But then, so am I. I love everything about you, give or take an apparent affinity for Fidel Castro, and add a pile of musical instruments that, in all likelihood I will never learn to play, but will enjoy hearing others do so at many of the wonderful gatherings I will throw once I inhabit you. A home should be filled with music.
I love the darkness and yet the lightness of your space. The organized chaos and overflowing bookshelves. I bet you smell like cedar, house. Cedar and old books. The permanent smell of wood burning in a fireplace. A real fireplace. Nothing electric, just like the antique gas stove that I imagine you have in your giant, sprawling kitchen, with an abundance of South-facing windows and a breakfast nook. This will be my favorite room, this week. It changes a lot. It will be sunny all day, and it will have that fresh, green smell of vegetables freshly ripped from the earth.
Until I can have you for real, house, I will strive to make every space I inhabit resemble you.
These are not from the same set, but lovely nonetheless. Stain all the wood darker and change the paint colours, and there you have it. There’s probably a breakfast nook out of frame. Dang, I love a breakfast nook.
