We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection. Something closed must retain our memories, while leaving them their original value as images. Memories of the outside world will never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.
Gaston Bachelard, via PLACE: The Poetics of Space « Teapot (via Greco, of course).
Home is a place, a house is a space, environment has a profound effect on the psychology of the inhabitants… Again, ideas that resonate with me for more reasons than I can coherently write at present…
Source: sfteapot.com
Hello! I'm Jacob Sam-La Rose. I've been described as a poet, tech head, educator, and all round literary whirlwind. I do web, old cameras and good things with words. Thanks for stopping by. Again, soon?