[...]
Julia liked the eye being led where the body can't go. She liked irregular brickwork, when on can't tell if the craftsmanship is careless or masterly. She liked the feeling of enclosure, with the suggestion of expansiveness. She like it when the view wasn't centered in the window, but also liked remembering that views are, by nature's nature, centered. She liked doorknobs that one wants to keep holding. She like steps up, and steps down.
[...]
She liked textures that the fingers and feet know, even if the eye doesn't. She like fireplaces centered in kitchens centered on the main living floor. She liked more bookshelves than are necessary. She liked skylights over showers, but no where else. She liked intentional imperfections, but she couldn't bear nonchalance, but she also liked to remember that there could be no such thing as an intentional imperfection. People are always mistaking something that looks good for something that feels good.
She didn't like uniform textures - they aren't how things are. She didn't like rugs centered in rooms. Good architecture should make one feel as if one is in a cave with a view of the horizon.
[...]
She never wanted to become an architect, but she always wanted to make a home for herself. She disposed of the dolls to free the boxes they came in. She spent a summer furnishing the space under her bed. Her clothes covered every surface in her room, because closets shouldn't be wasted with utility. It wasn't until she started designing homes for herself - all on paper, each a source of pride and shame - that she came to understand what was meant by "herself."
"This is so great," Jacob said while being led through a floor plan. Julia never shared her personal work with him unless he explicitly asked. It wasn't a secret, but the experience of sharing always seemed to leave her feeling humiliated. He was never enthusiastic enough, or not in the right ways.
[...]
"It's great," he said, so close his nose almost touched the two-dimentional rendering of her fantasy. "Amazing actually. How do you think of these things?"
"I'm not sure I do think of them."
"This is what, an interior garden?"
"Yeah, the stairs will rise around a light shaft."
"Sam would say, 'Shaft ...'"
"And you would laugh, and I would ignore it."
"Or we both ignore it. Anyway, this is really, really nice."
"Thank you."
Jacob touched his finer to the floor plan, moved it through a series of rooms, always through the doors. "I know I'm no good at reading these things, but where would the kids sleep?"
"Here I am", Johathan Sarfan Foer
No comments:
Post a Comment