Here is a photo of my bathroom that I took a few minutes ago. Actually, my toilet room is a more accurate name for the small place. It doesn't have a bath or shower, and was once bigger, but I cut it in half and made it into another room for my tenants. The original room was like an afterthought of the builders since it was outside. Tacked onto the structure. It has a window that used to show the surrounding neighborhood, but today it gives out into the added-on studio. The red medium-sized painting hangs on the back wall. It's appropriate. A toilet room is a fine and private place . . . for there none do embrace. Well, for the most part.
Happy feelings are more common than the opposite in this sanctuary. We were talking about the nature of happiness yesterday. Dante agreed that "happy years" was a little too optimistic. Even the conventional "happy hour" was often anything but. I suggested "happy minutes" is more realistic, and not as greedy. If you can recall a few happy minutes in your life you might consider yourself lucky. Even the instant you say to yourself "I am happy" you are less so, and already outside the authentically beautiful experience. Happiness is a mystery, pretty much unsolved at this point. It seems as if it's beyond words.