I'm a bit of a homebody. I like to go out to grab a coffee and remind myself that the world is out there, but then I just love being at home. My parents used to despair of me, begging me to walk the ten minutes to the shop, just to get some fresh air. I'm no hermit - I love people; I want to understand them - but home is where it's at for me. I'm writing a book about a house and a home. I'm trying to figure out what one is and how this relates to our identities. I'm pretty consumed by it, which is tricky when you have so many other things to think and do! Last week, I started reading this amazing book called The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard (Beacon Press, 1994). It's making my sleep-deprived, flabby brain hurt but it's so interesting. I'm going to have to nibble away at it. I love this quotation from the foreword by John R. Stilgoe:
"If the house is the first universe for its young children, the first cosmos, how does its space shape all the subsequent knowledge of other space, of any larger cosmos? Is that house "a group of organic habits" or even something deeper, the shelter of the imagination itself?"
Beautiful, don't you think?