I have not yet imprinted this place with the sound of my noise. It is unfettered with the essence of our life, it could be anyone's room--or no ones room. It is a blank slate. I imagine someone other--living here--surrounded by beige's warm tones. I have tempararily stored my noisey fetish's, quirks and penchants in a teak box. And for now I shall sit in the quiet, embrace this bareness and leave my things, gathering dust in the middle of the spare room.