valbug

.................................................... Sometimes a writer, sometimes a designer .................................................... a poem: To my Sleeping love The days grow shorter I miss warmth without the buzz

Describe the room you are sitting in

  • I can see how dark it is outside through the window and the door to the balcony. The light bulb makes the walls look white but I know they are actually buttery-yellow and I hate it.
  • Im sitting on a bean-bag, my feet digging between the fibers of on the giant mock-persian rug I got second hand - both the rug and the bag a cool, faded shade red.
  • The table light (which has not worked in months, gotta fix that) and one of the picture frames above my bed are also red.
  • There are many misplaced objects laying around - shoes, notebooks, a water bottle, worn-but-not-laundry-stage-yet clothes, reusable facemasks, my bag.
  • The standout is a standart, one legged electric fan, dead center in the middle of the room, generating a continuous monotone hum and a gentle breeze.