Today I needed to write about a memory from a minor character (Anton the Younger).  As houses, and the image and idea of house, tend to haunt me, I decided the character used to live (or actually work) in Casa Calvet in Barcelona.  I focussed on this staircase.

I love writing fiction, because there’s so often room to saturate the story in the tea of the writer’s obsessions.  Whether this particular scene is going to stay or not, the process was fruitful.

Writing is good.

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