creative writing peice

A library, a place where thoughts run wild, the skeleton key to knowledge, unlocking new found wisdom Warmed sunlight gleaming through the panelled windows, cascading on the old knotted wooden floors, guiding you to the central balcony of the room. As if the balcony was a vortex of splendour, taking you down a rabbit hole to the floor underneath. For what could be underneath this majestic chamber?

As your eyes follow the light up the wall, rows upon rows of books old and new skylining the shelves, individuality and expertise surging out of them, in addition the warm leather backing wrapping themselves around the room. Much like the paint work and intercut delectated craftsmanship that shapes the room. The grandiose ceiling, storytelling, engaging the audience of the bright white bannisters to the dimmed pigment of the leather-bound books; telling the story of the elegance of the room with a gallery moment, shielded crown moulding performing as pure white framework highlighting the warmth of the paints that have been delicately stroked across the plaster. Pink ribbons of paint follow round the border of this splendid work of art. Giving a sense of shelter and isolation from the busy outside world, a one way mirror of tranquility. There’s a sense of being encapsulated in tertiary colours making the interior feel free and spacious yet the books, seemingly, give an warm homely feel to the space.

As you walk into the space, light falls all around you, not confining you, but guiding you through with those oak framed circles of light, inexplicably juxtaposing each other, a craft of which many can not do.

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