The silver and bronze chessmenwait to be set against one another,next to Lego soldiers who defend their basefrom giant robots while starfighters stage dog fights.Facing themselves in an otherworldly mirrorlike an alien monument to primitive gods.While the slow whirr of the foot massagercomforts my mother as she texts her friends.A big centerpiece, a shiny, often-out-of-tune pianoon which “Für Elise” was mastered in a month.Opposite, a huge window with sunsets galoreand at night, I can make a game offinding how many moths plaster the window.

When I am down, I can always escape over here,away from all the excitement and hubbub of outsideand indulge in dear playtime and my own fantasies.Ah, the sweet smell of fond memories,of earthy, waxy incense candles burning,fit for meditations at a Buddhist monastery.And the moist lemon and herb tea,as savory as a summer salad.The spicy jalapeño chips contrastingwith the clean air of the heaterwarming me while I type this on the Mac.When stuck on writing, I chew on my comfort food,cheesy, nutty, spiced crackers,and feel the hairy fuzziness of the piano sheepskin cover for inspiration.My favorite sound: Lego pieces falling ontothe smooth, polished hardwood, little soulstrapped inside and unable to help themselves.