Friday, April 12, 2013

It would be nice to come home to...


·         endless panels of plain white, silky drapes – nothing embossed, nothing self-printed…just moonlight on a weave.
·         rooms filled with pretty, fresh, new stationery. lots of handmade notebooks and thick spiraled diaries and leather-bound jot-pads and post-its in pop-colors and beautiful parchments in jewel-tones of raw silk. they must be everywhere; piled up on study-tables and by the magazine holder and post-its stuck aplenty on the fridge and whiteboards and sheaves of spotless-white bond paper wedged right inside, to the back of drawers.
·         chilled bowls of cherry-flavored jelly, fruits and thick, creamy, sweet custard.
·         music. soft, lilting, music. maybe flute or piano.
·         lots of plants in full bloom – some with wild, purple leaves.
·         candles, especially candles that are the colour of butter so that when wicks are lit, the yellow and orange conjugate into some kind of molten dance.
·         satin bedsheets.
·         cool tiled floors where one can spread large papers and snip and cut little pictures from magazines and newspapers and do scrapbooking. scrapbooks are fun things.
·         soft, thin blankets with chintz print in minty blue and lavender.
·         books
·         large, yet light, cane and wicker and glass closet for books
·         walk-in closets. a separate one for lounge-wear. mostly consisting of harem pants or slouchy pants made of thin, soft cotton, tiny silk slip-ons, printed skirts, cotton dresses, kaftans.
·         warm, hot food ready to be eaten.
·         colorful garbage bags, maybe in fuchsia
·         soft waffles
·         kitchen shelves lined with the finest, purest honey.
·         large jugs made of cut-glass and filled with chilled, iced lemonade.
·         cookie cans filled with sea-shells.
·         bushes with rose-buds. pink, red, yellow, and white.
·         little poetic verses stuck inside the wardrobe – Shelley near the stack of scarves, Byron with the flowing skirts, Neruda by the trousers, Tagore by the peasant tops.
·         a handwritten letter from a friend from long ago or from far away, every day, slipped under the door.
·         postcards from bombay printed onto pillow covers and cushion covers and cocktail napkins.
·         sky-high heels in kajal-black and blood-red.
·         Perfumes in tiny vials shaped like gypsies and flamenco dancers

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Must say u really have a style and the way to do up things, just awesome

Mukta said...

thank you, anon. :-)

Anonymous said...

haha, you are definitely not a minimalist!