the new casa

Hey folks. Jot down my new address, and send me something via snail mail!:

Calle San Cosme y San Damian, 11 Numero 1 IZQ

Madrid, Spain 28012

Nesting is an interesting thing. Supposedly it is a pregnant woman's instinct, but I like to make my own theories based on personal experience in the world (feel free to believe otherwise..). I think it's safe to say that we women in general are particularly prone to the psychological phenomenon of nesting, pregnant or not, and I must say that I do quite enjoy it.

Moving into a new house is like adopting a new pet, or meeting someone of whose relationship you know will inevitably end in something profound shared between the two parties involved.

It's because homes come with history. Even those that are brand-spanking new…despite their novice in sharing space, they nonetheless glow with the touch of whatever human sweat was put into their making.

In the case that the home has been lived in (and god, is that a loaded phrasal verb)…well, all the more emotional baggage it carries.

Yesterday I moved into my new home in Madrid. I now dwell in a three bedroom apartment on the southern border of the capital, and once again, I possess "a room of one's own". Oh!..the freedom! Thank you, Mrs Woolf.

Thus I nest. And because I am particularly fond of those especially worn-in homes, it has been even further stimulating than what I have experienced in my previous solo endeavors (and how few I have had..)

I suppose I am excited to be living in the center of Madrid, Europe's breath softly humming in every corner. Who knows how many people have made their home in this very room I sit!…whose walls are covered with marks and bruises of previous owners, and whose dimensions are all a bit off… the floor of the balcony slightly tilting upwards on the left-side..the tiles cut at slanted angles to take advantage of small, awkward spaces. It's quite lovely, in all its imperfections.