£500 per year and
a room of one’s own
says Virginia and
I’m told that Harper Lee
was given a year’s income
and she wrote
To Kill A Mockingbird
money well spent
by someone
a friend, an investor
her publisher

what would I do
with such a gift
where would I go
offered such freedom
from life’s mundane
would I stay here
in familiar rooms
but shed the office
and email and
conference calls

or would I travel
somewhere else
another city
a small table
in a room above
the rue or calle
perhaps a cabin
by a different lake
and a gravel road

I cannot grasp it
the idea of such choice
my life feels locked
into its rhythms
of work and weekend
although of course
there is no real lock and key
just a mortgage
and a visa bill
and my cat and
a million other excuses

except they are
my reality
and Ms. Lee and Woolf
seem characters
in a novel
I once read

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