A room full of writahs (DAMMIT)
I went to the Writers Room today. It was smaller than I thought, cozy though. The actual workspace was lit with natural light from the dying sun. They had tiny desks with lamps, whiteboards, and powerstrips. They had seperate rooms for the guys who still use typewriters, a little kitchenette, and a room for outgoing local calls.
But it was the quiet, the absolute respectful silence, the palatable kind. Like I stepped into church, or an abbey. It was the kind of silence that folds around you, like a warm blanket on a cold winters night. Perfect, comforting silence.
It’s worth the 800 a year just to nap on their couches.
