Jazz club, table by the stage
An empty club, one drink poured, the bass still tuning
A basement jazz room at that hour before anyone arrives — a bassist checks his tuning against a red curtain, the drums sit waiting, and rain-slick shoes pass in the street through the high window. On the nearest table a journal lies open beside a candle, a cocktail and a coupe of wine, as if someone stepped away mid-sentence.
Indoors, City, Night, Overcast, Melancholy, Romantic, Music, Company, Candlelit, Dim
In this room
- A journal: what you write stays in the room, and only the people you choose can read it.
- A sound of its own — rain, a fire, a radio station to leave playing.
- A clock that keeps your time.
- A window with the real weather where you are.
- A note for the day, where you will see it.
- Frames for your own photographs.
- An assistant that knows the room and what you keep in it.
- A shelf for your files.
- A lamp that turns the room from light to dark.
- Rain runs down the glass.
- A flame flickers.
- The lamps give a soft glow.
- After dark the same room has a night of its own, with its own light.