“His room was like an explorer’s den, a lair of furs, the cave

of a magician,” writes Anaïs Nin upon entering her new lover’s room,

some time in the 1930s. If Anaïs were alive today, it isn’t all too hard

to imagine her visiting this contemporary explorer’s den, moving from

room to room across these aerial spaces. Today’s home of the adventurer

is uncluttered, yet personal: a place in which every memory finds

its perfect placement. Oddities are tucked away in the corners – a bird

cage, a globe, a hanging constellation; unexpectedly, as you enter

the bathroom, you find that the bathtub is shaped like a freshwater pearl.

The explorer’s chair, awash in light from the window, invites the mind

to wonder in serene contemplation – the attractive warmth of the leather

sofas calls for late night conversation. Which is when the explorer’s

lover steps in, expectant.

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