My write place

This is clever, a nice play on words. I am in the write place, where is the write place for you? How do one describe his/hers write place?

Got it?

For years my 'write place' was any place with a lot of people. Inside the noise I could carve a small private bubble and write. I liked the noise, the movement, and the feeling that I am not alone. Coffee houses were a natural choice since I like coffee (with a cake) and the offering, included, in the price, a table and few chairs. Big bookstores with a coffee corner were just as good, and the added bonus of books breathing around me was a nice touch. But even noisy bus stations, train stations, airports, everywhere that a sitting place was provided was just fine.

Things changed dramatically when I discovered the computer and the word processor.

Within night I was transformed from that person who loved to write, by hand, to a depended, needy slave. This conniving machine takes my words, line them neatly on a lighted screen, and then starts messing up with them. Red marks, green scribbles, sometimes even blue. At times it even tries to finish my words for me, or will announce with smugness that the last sentence I wrote will not do.

So this is my write place now, on a chair, across from a screen, being continuously abused by a ‘thinking’ machine.