It’s Friday night and it’s difficult to get out of my room. Racks of clothing line the hallways outside my door turning the second floor of the Waldorf Hotel into Vancouver’s newest garment district. Shoppers crowd into the narrow corridors pulling hangers and drinking wine. It’s still early and the true multitudes have yet to arrive. In a couple of hours it may be impossible for me to get out of here.
My room is an interesting juxtaposition against the retail fervor happening outside the door. I often feel sequestered here in this calm space that contrasts so dramatically with the rest of this hyper social hotel. My sparse but comfortable furnishings, books, laptop, printer, my utilitarian clothing—these basic and uncomplicated things bring a sense of calm. I’ve been careful to limit possible distractions and reduce my life into its simplest form. This is really an experiment in focus and though hardly a monastic cell it does possess an austerity that allows me space and perspective to move forward in this project—Finding a definition of home.
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