My room here doesn’t represent me. The one back home does.
When you enter the room you see two book shelves, a desk and a chair, and a queen bed. This room was my son’s domain for office work when he was home. Now since I am occupying it, he mostly does his work downstairs at the dinning table. His office paraphernalia dots the room, he often comes to retrieve it when needed.
Back home my room looks soothing, and inviting in lovely shades of green. One large window covers one wall, and the second window covers another half wall. My bed is queen size with two side tables crammed with books. The bed mostly gets covered with my favorite bedcover which is appliquéd in many shades of green. I miss the king size bed I shared with my (late) husband. I had it sold when I couldn’t move it upstairs.
The fireplace is done in woodwork. The wood shelf holds knick knacks. Above the fireplace hangs Surah Rahman in woodwork. There is a gas heater to warm the room. But I don’t like gas smell, so I rarely use it. I have an electric heater which I switch on when the room feels cold. Back home summers are burning hot, and winters are freezingly cold. There is a window AC to bring the temperature insides to the one I am comfortable with.
Beneath a large mirror on the wall are my two dressers. Near one window is a small sofa covered in a soft material in green color. It has two lovely cushions. Nearer to the door is a setee. On it are four cushions I made years ago from a Woman’s Weekly pattern. They are appliquéd representing a French countryside.
I have a beautiful handwoven carpet at the foot of the bed. Guess in which colors? Various shades of green again.
My room looks like a picture in a glossy magazine except on the day I am worn out with cleaning the house, and it’s dusty, and I have not made up the bed.
Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing. What do you see? Who is the person who lives there?