View of the Studio (imagined from the outside)

If you could see the walls you'd notice no pictures (the pictures have fallen). You would notice the light, the way it slips over the wall like a glove. Inside it is still, quiet, the air heavily hung (like an ocean). Wave after wave of light foam warmed by windows trapping the sun. Small clusters of dust glow like filaments freed from lamps. A bulb, the glass tuber on top of a marble stand is slowly cultivating cobwebs on the sill. Accidents abound. Work has been left. Cups of tea abandoned mid-sip. Dried ghosts of liquid growing in circular roots.