The perfect reading space isn’t built against a wall – it floats.
I’ve got two swinging chairs in my reading corner. Two.
My egg chair is basically a floating writing pod. I sit cross-legged with my laptop, gently spinning when the words get stuck. Not sure if the spinning helps with creativity, but it’s way more fun than staring at a wall.
Next to it hangs my reading hammock – not those flimsy death traps that leave you dangling helplessly, but a proper seated one. It cradles you like a shadow’s embrace, suspended just high enough that your feet never quite touch the ground. Perfect for those midnight horror sessions when you need to feel slightly untethered from safety, slightly too far from the floor to escape quickly when something goes wrong.
This is just the beginning though. My dream space? A wooden cabin with bookshelves labeled by reality: “Started at 2 AM, Hugely Regret It” and “Bought for the Cover, Stayed for the Story.”
A fireplace for those essential dramatic writing moments. And strategically placed tea stations because walking all the way to the kitchen ruins the reading flow.
For now, I’ve got my floating reading corner. It’s weird, it’s wonderful, and yes, I’ve spilled tea while swinging more times than I’ll admit.
One day, that wooden cabin will have gothic windows letting in blue-tinted light, and my swinging chairs will hang from a domed ceiling, surrounded by walls of leather-bound books. There will be soft blankets, warm lamplight, and maybe even a bit of mystery in the air. But until then, I’m already living part of that dream – suspended in my own small piece of reading magic, one floating chair at a time.
S.J. Asher 
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