The small sofa I am recovering for my daughter and her husband in their San Francisco apartment is in fact a sofa-bed. Today I had to provide for a fabric-opening for the metal handle that allows a person to yank the heavy bed-frame out of the sofa.
To face the opening I used some leftover bias tape from a brown-printed summer dress I made for my daughter earlier this year.
When the sewing day was done I stowed all the equipment out of the way. The young people can now enjoy an ordinary weekend in their apartment, minus the use of their sofa.
But then before I left the apartment I found myself taking a few pictures because the late-afternoon daylight demanded it.
Books are on every wall and surface.
And there is a system of arrangement that is too intricate for my understanding.
The top of one bookcase expresses a marine theme. I remember that mirror from the 1970s, hanging near the door to check your hair. But in those days it was painted turquoise, with the carved blossoms picked out in pink nail polish by the benevolence of my mother-in-law.
And renewed thanks to those who created a space so amenable to visual plunder.