Sanctum Sanctorum

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Where is your "holiest-of-holy" place. In otherwords, where is your den.
Mine is the middle room: it's an area where all the dresses, suits, blankets, towels & suitcases are haphazardly stored. There is an L-shaped or elbow lounge spanning the north & east walls that is obscured by pillows. The west wall is lined by towering tallboys, crammed with paraphernalia. When the washing-machine is turned on, I enter the room, drag the heaviest suitcase in front of the door (which usually doesn't close) and drown in the pillows with a book. Since the bedroom in my childhood abode, this has been the one place where I can engage fully in fantasy & be severed from all else.

That's so like the kind of thing used to do when I was younger. Nowadays I just wish I could hide away like that.


Sanctum Sanctorum - I love that song.

You know, your post reads like a poem. I've reformatted it thusly. To wit:

Sanctum Sanctorum

Where is your "holiest-of-holy" place? In other words, where is your den?
Mine is the middle room: it's an area where all the dresses, suits, blankets,
towels & suitcases are haphazardly stored. There is an L-shaped or elbow lounge
spanning the north & east walls that is obscured by pillows.

The west wall is lined by towering tallboys, crammed with paraphernalia.
When the washing-machine is turned on, I enter the room, drag the heaviest suitcase
in front of the door (which usually doesn't close) and drown in the pillows with a book.

Since the bedroom is my childhood abode, this has been the one place
where I can engage fully in fantasy & be severed from all else.