Someday, I want to own a home with an epic door knocker — the type that is so perfectly unusual it makes you question if you’ll be stepping into another world on the other side of it.
I want door knobs and keyholes that look like intricate puzzles, waiting not only a key but a password or secret knock for it to work properly.
The garden in the back will be heavy with time, for there it slows and speeds up and slows down again, until you lose all sense of what hour it is and what you’re supposed to be doing.
There are no “supposed to”s or “should”s allowed within the house, only dancing and indulging in your senses. The kitchen transforms at different hours of the day from bakery to café to gourmet kitchen. Dinners always have candlelight. Afternoon tea involves a stack of books and laughter. Breakfast can be eaten at any hour, particularly if it’s some variety of french toast or pancakes.
And yet, the interior is surprising unassuming and modern in its simplicity. You are more likely to get lost in art or a sunbeam than in the cushions of an old sofa or amongst decorative objects. The rooms feel both a blank canvas and a warm inviting place for solace and entertaining and dreaming.