I do all of my best writing in my kitchen. Especially at night time. There's something about the lighting - dim and soft, almost like a subdued glow. It's thought-provoking.
No other light in the house is comparable, really. My room with the lamp on is next best, I suppose. Then the living room. If only I blogged on my laptop. My writing would improve, honest.
Light has always amazed me with what it can do, apart from refraction and reflection and all that other stuff. To me, it's far more evocative than music or books could ever aspire to be. Comptine d'un Autre Été: L'Apres-Midi, when played well, comes pretty close though. Light just seems to have the power to completely alter my mood. There's something about it that just alleviates my daily spurious issues. Is it coincidence that "alleviate" stems from the Latin word for "light"?
To me, the power of light, especially when teamed with darkness, is boundless and ever-intense. I love the way it makes things seem closer, and more touchable. I love its often ethereal quality, and other times, its intimate warmth and texture. I know that that really makes me sound like some sort of light pervert but, although it probably doesn't have the same effect on a lot of people, I can justify my sensitivity to light with one dictionary definition I found of it a while ago: Light - the sensation aroused by stimulation of the visual receptors. C'mon. That's totally hot. ;D
If you love me...
If you really love me...
Lots of Love