i think about these old houses when i’m in them. they always come with a million stories no one can ever know. the struggles of farm life. the family secrets. the steinbeckian woo of simple hard lives lived earnestly.. it’s something like drawing blood.
"In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage." - Steinbeck
when i was younger and i used to read cohen, he’d go on about the rooms people did things in and I never really understood why it mattered so much to him. i’m getting it now, slowly, rooms are more than just 4 walls. and a woman’s room.. well..