Descriptive Paragraph

   The first thing evident, I would say, is the clutter.  Plastic water bottles, their sides dented and uneven are scattered here and there over the three puzzle-pieced desks.  Condensation clings against the hills and valleys of the plastic resisting the pull of gravity.  I admit to the coffee stained mugs that sit on once desolate edges and the mismatched socks that wedge seamlessly into the most unsuspecting corners.  Sculpted forms of layered lotions, sprays, fluorescent tubes of soft smelling goop lie carefully over the scuffed wooden dresser.  They teeter silently against a grapevine wreath.  Long and spindly fingers reach out, stiffly grasping at the white-washed walls to keep it upright.  Rising stoically behind the twisted vines, is a poster of Picasso's "Blue Nude".  Sensuous and raw, it stands as a monument to honesty exhibited in the woman's emotional, curled form.  Below, the brown rug, mysterious in its vast, monochromatic lengths is covered with islands composed of laundry and books like the dense earth under cities.  Rainbows of cardigans are heaped haphazardly-like over the boxy chairs that prove to be just as uncomfortable as they look. And the sliding closet doors, overlap in the middle leaving cashmere and lace guts to spill generously over.  Then there are the chords.  They hang from filled power strips, black and menacing.  The wires weave through miscellaneous objects to their lit up and humming destinations.  They creep around shiny metal bed frames where sheets lie mangled and crushed, untouched from the night before.  From there the eye is immediately drawn to the pills.  Medications line the top of bed rest, the regiment of a schedule evident and seemingly the only order to the room.  I will not lie to you.  The scene of numerous prescriptions is not disturbing, it is only a form of silent acknowledgement made from years of habit.  Maybe it is the same with everything though.  Each act is derived from habit.  We clutch the past in one hand and in the other, we struggle to keep hold of the present.