And so, I switch off the computer and my eyes fall on my favourite chair. Currently piled with duvets and a guitar, it is wedged between a loveseat and a laundry rack. A penguin is perched on the loveseat, propped up by pillows and the last publically visible box in the house. This is half of the office. The half I can conveniently turn my back on while typing. But I miss the chair. It started out as my Grandfather’s…
