Inside there’s a new feeling–no more books on the floor, no more clutter, lots of space. And there’s movement.
Things are changing. Now I stand to write and walk when I feel like it. I can also sit, which I find I sometimes need to do if I’m having to work really hard to turn an inside thought out.
Inside I’ve cleaned out drawers, moved things that haven’t been moved in years, given away books. Created white space.
Poems and novels, histories and memories, dictionaries and blue-books; books written in all languages by men and women of all tempers, races, and ages jostle each other on the shelf. And outside the donkey brays, the women gossip at the pump, the colts gallop across the fields. Where are we to begin?
~Virginia Woolf, The Second Common Reader