Observatory dome
The dome is open, the sky is going violet, and the dog is already asleep.
A brass-ringed refractor leans out through the open slit of an old observatory dome, aimed at snow-lit peaks and the last orange band of sunset. On the desk in the foreground an observing log lies open beside a pencil, a thermos, an enamel mug and a red-shaded lamp; behind you a dog dozes on a rug under the star chart. It is the quiet hour before real dark, when everything is ready and nothing has happened yet.
Indoors, Mountains, Dusk, Overcast, Focused, Grand, Lonely, Thinking, Cold light, Liminal
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.
- The lamps give a soft glow.
- After dark the same room has a night of its own, with its own light.