Heaven

This is heaven. Why is it heaven? Because it looks like a quiet place where a person could sit and write in peace. I don't have any place of my own in the real world that's all my own. Maybe it's not heaven, but it's at least the absence of hell.

Bukowski wrote that writers went crazy in tiny rooms without hope. I don't think they went crazy. They were crazy before they entered the room. The world made them crazy. The room was where they went to escape the world. By escaping they became sane.