There was, at one point, going to be a window seat here. There still might be. 

There was, at one point, a swag on these windows. And there might be again.

But for now, this is the most precious of spaces. An empty one. Sometimes I sit on the floor here with a pillow at my back and watch the dust motes in the air.  It’s an empty space, a breathing space. 

So for now, there is nothing here. And there might never be.