Tiptoeing Soul: The Selcouth: Neumarkt Loft, Meissen, Germany

I am enraptured, I think.

The Selcouth have bewildered my senses and drawn me in search of each and every one of lairs. So, you will have to pardon me for a spell and let this entrancement with “the unfamiliar, the rare, the strange but marvelous” run its due course.

Oh, I will no doubt return to my “regular” writing nook fare in a few days’ time, but allow me one or a dozen indiscretions more. It is devilish fun searching out places where a tale lives and breathes in the walls.

Remember, it is atmosphere, -a haunting cast to the shadows, a melancholy crinkle to the sunlight, a laugh trapped in a neglected corner- which deems a writing nook as belonging to The Selcouth.

Now, are you ready for your next peek?

Neumarkt Loft

Meissen, Germany

I haven’t the faintest idea of the history of this nook. Years of the building, a dating of the room is far beyond my meager German translation skills. I only know it feels… well, something.

A chilled beauty, perhaps? Like that of a diamond tossed out in the snow?

Or is it the emptiness of a forgotten memory, instead? Would the ghosts here wear frowns with their fur coats and jewels? Or would sly smiles be tucked into the feigned warmth of their stoles?

Aloofness? Certainly. But is the aloofness that of a spoiled cat, a hiss ready on its tongue? Or is the distance that of spun glass, sorrowfully trapped on a high shelf, a victim of its own fragility?

I do hope you are snickering. At least a bit. I admit these are rather folly-heavy thoughts.

It is just a room, of course. A black and white room with sparse furnishings, crisp lines and a frosting of mirrors. What in the world is special about that?

I don’t know, but it is… well, something.

I choose to call it The Selcouth.