This may well be one of the first posts that I have ever posted anywhere that does not include a photograph. Which is strange because that is what I do, I photograph things incessantly and then post them. Oh, and when I talk, and write, I sometimes ramble a lot before getting to the point.
More recently, I decided that I would like to write more.
And to write better.
So this, my first contribution, is a response to Day Two, written and posted on Day Three and featuring “a room with a view”.
The room, the view, in question, was so special to me that I not only photographed it several times, I took out pencil and paper and sketched it.
The use of the room was the gift of a friend at a turning point in my life. So, for that reason alone the room acquired substance beyond the confines of its walls.
And what walls they were, a building of whitewashed stone. Approached by climbing a short flight of stone steps from a cobbled square in the centre of a small village on a rocky promontory overlooking the sea. The sea over which the sun set each night.
A simple room, two chairs by the window. Stone floor. Stone walls.
A window flung open to allow the sea breeze and the sounds of voices in the bar below to drift up and swirl softly around the small space.
A room in which, each day, I ate simply and well. Fresh crusty bread, ham, tomatoes, local grown olives and a glass or two of red wine.
A room with little in the way of furnishings. But what there was, functional, clean and comforting.
A room from which I first glimpsed a precious view.
Not the sea, not the sunset, not the villagers at the bar, not the coffee shop, not the model being photographed on the stone steps, not the tourists passing through.
The view from this room was far more precious.
This room, gave me a glimpse into my heart, my life.
A room with a view.
(for wordpress writing 101 – day two)