I am a dreamer. Always have been. The amount I dream is probably unhealthy. There have been many incarnations of me in my lifetime. The one I dream of the most is to write stories. To be a storyteller. It is the one that I have the least training or talent for but I dream it nonetheless. I always think of the end result before I finish the product. Case in point. I have written my Oscar acceptance speech even thought I have only written 84 pages of a script that will gather dust in a closet. Unfinished I am sure. But let me get to my point. If I am going to dream, allow me to dream this. I want a place to work on my craft. To write in peace away from the world. And that place is in a caboose. In my backyard. I want a caboose in my backyard that will be my study. Not a man cave. A sanctuary for my creative self. Part study, part studio for my other dream I have no talent for, painting.
So if you ever drive the countryside and see a caboose in someone’s backyard, it may be mine. Perhaps with an Oscar on a shelf inside and a closet full of stories untold.
Till we meet again. Good day.
Mind of Shoo