in my room

In my room there is a world of wonder. There is a television for an occasional show or bit of sport. There is a radio for classical music, an occasional talk show, and sport, and for listening to my CD’s sometimes. My desk is for working on when I take out my old laptop and type.

Above my desk is a shelf with most of my menagerie of souvenirs. A small sailing ship, a motorbike model, a wooden Chinese dragon, two Buddha’s, a few wire models, a wooden snuff-box I bought from an Ovambo tribesman during my tour of duty, a very old lead and copper plumb-line I came across early on in my building years, and a few other oddities.

I have two bookshelves with my books, a wide array of reading matter for such a small collection, but poetry and fiction feature quite prominently. The one wall has two paintings and a South-African flag on; the other has two large posters and an almanac. Other bits and pieces also hang on the walls like a few hats, a few rosaries, two handmade sets of worry-beads, a thermometer in the shape of a ship’s-anchor, and a few more things. Above my bed hangs my black dream-catcher.

My bed is a single bed, and is old and made of steel, with a thin sponge mattress on. I have a steel cupboard with my clothes in. The room has a small double-glass door at the front, and single door at the back. It has good ventilation. My steel fire-place stands to one side, but is seldom used. The floor covering is of linoleum, but is old and badly worn and torn at places. On the ceiling there is an electric light, which lights up the white walls at night.

I spend hours every day in my room contemplating ideas for my writing. My dogs and my Indian Ring-neck Parakeet keep me company. I listen to classic-fm most of the time, and lie or sit around thinking. Sometimes I write something when I am ready, but this really does not take that much of my time. Most of my many idle hours are spent sitting around, in or around my room, and thinking.

At night I lie in bed with the lights off. This is my best and favorite time of the day. I like lying in the darkness, and watching the occasional beep of light from the phone on the wall. Sometimes a report comes through from the citizen watch radio. Then the night is quite again, save for the barking here and there of dogs in the distance, and I lie alone with my thoughts once more. Occasionally a car (or maybe a few) drives past, but I love the almost complete silence best. Darkness wraps itself around me. I find peace in these hours of solitude.

I have spent so much time inside my room these many years, that I scarce know any other place to be. And still I sit here thinking…