An unfinished corner of the base

ment is affectionately known as my Bat-cave.

It is often a cluttered, chaotic mess, but serves my claustrophilic needs.

This cycle repeats itself on a regular basis:

In the final days of a sewing frenzy, materials will be tossed aside and the piles will build to un-scrunchable levels across the entire 8 foot sewing table until it reaches critical mass. Then, the lights get turned out and I leave the space for for some darkened, dormant fallow time.

Eventually, the pull to return, recover and re-set the cave grows. I putter, pile and organize. I purge some of the previous frenzies' debris. I reconnect with my stuff and (yes, I know this sounds woo-woo), it speaks to me. It tells me what it wants to become.

The dance with chaos begins again...