Books and maps.
The primary contents of our shared office space reveal much about what drew us together--our dual love of literary escape and real-life adventure, our insatiable wanderlust appeased only by travel, novelty, and exploration.
Whether real or imaginary, we thirst for new worlds, relish discovering them together. Now we're trying to build our own new world. These new maps, printed on overly large paper and held together by thick rubber bands, you created yourself. Am I wrong to say that blueprints are maps, too? You map this home and the next, both of which I will fill with books and whimsy and we will fill with love.
The books on my desk teach me how to build worlds with words. Combining graphemes into words, turning this raw alphabetic material into lines, shaping syllables into scenes, crafting characters into characters, fashioning phonemes into landscapes.
The books on your desk teach you to build homes from wood and stone and glass and steel. You design intricate enclosed systems of pipes and electric currents, make decisions about optimal window placement and roof pitch, use sustainable materials and renewable energy, create recycled green homes for this warming planet.
Whittling or writing, we both build worlds with our bare hands.