What a beautiful idea. My book-filled imaginary rooms always also include a window seat overlooking a forested area with a pond or lake or river in the background, and heavy dark red velvet curtains that can be closed around me to shut out every part of the world except the one in the book I’m reading.
One room filled with the classics, of course. Another dedicated to a wide range of non-fiction. The walls and ceiling of the bookway filled with historical works and some historical fiction. A room within a room for fiction. Then some poetry. An array of journals and subscriptions to shake things up.
A hand-carved antique table in a corner for the cappuccino machine. Some over-stuffed armchairs. Lots of pillows and cushions throughout. Wi-Fi, of course.
I’d probably never leave. So, maybe not? Dream a little dream instead.
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