Harvard University

Soft Wooden Heart. The backbone of my life is my writing desk. I like to describe its surfaces and organized mess (despite my parents’ overdramatized description of a bomb site), a state of positive entropy and minimum energy. Math, exercise exercises overlap an organizer, set next to almost-empty tubes of paint and overdue library books. A constantly filled a bottle of water sits behind a glasses’ case full of guitar picks, and carved into a mountain of paper, right in the middle, is a space reserved for my laptop—on days when I’m slouching, the complete works of William Shakespeare needs to…