White walls, white pages

In the last few years and since I moved in to my thirties, I have developed a growing interest in design. Especially house design. I eventually want to build my own house. Maybe in another life I would have been an architect. But for now it remains an interest.

From working with a Danish company and making Danish friends I have come to appreciate their outlook on design. Functional in it's simplicity. A slight personal touch here or there to make it, well...I was gonna say stand out, but I don't think Danes do that, so better to say, hold it's own on the highest stage.

My house in Italy has, and any house of mine will always have white walls and be simple. I like minimal, I like adding small touches of colour to breathe life in to it. The best thing is I can never get bored of this approach. If I want to change something I can with ease. Here and there.

I woke up this morning in my nice hotel room and just laid in bed with the gratifying feeling of not having a hangover despite quite a few sherberts with new colleagues last night, but of also knowing I was not in a rush to go anywhere. I lay in the crisp white sheets and look around the well designed room with it's cool wood features, sharp lighting features and comfy Scandinavian style armchair. And I looked up at the ceiling. The white ceiling.

I wake up every day and see this white ceiling and walls as I come to my daily senses, like I stare at a blank page when I write. And then I try to fill it...Like I have been doing here for a few days... Here and there add words to fill it like we can fill our house with furniture or just simply fill our every day lives. It is up to us to decide what to fill it with. How much we want to put in there. We get the chance to redraft, just like when writing, every morning that we wake up.

We write on the page, then we move on to the next one. Like untouched snow, I just cannot leave it untouched, I have to run, jump in it and make snow angels. I see a blank page and it is the same. We can be what we write. Not that I really want to be a snow angel.


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