A Room of One's Own

Imagine realizing that Virigina Woolf

Walked the streets of London

As you are doing

You knew it as a fact in the back of your mind somewhere

Virginia Woolf lived in London

But to suddenly encounter it

To be living it is a whole other matter

To know that she once stood beneath the arches of the British Museum

And looked up at the names inscribed into the walls

And thought,

All this knowledge! How will I ever come to terms with it?

And to sit reading

A Room of One’s Own

Whilst sitting in a room of one’s own!

In London! 

Is entirely novel

And wonderful and funny and joyous.

Because six years ago

You read Mrs Dalloway

And looked at women and fiction

And you never even imagined 

Even for a moment

That one day

You would have a room of one’s own.

And the best bit? 

The glorious romance novel cliche of it?

Reading the writings of Viriginia Woolf

In your very own window seat

Overlooking the garden

Overlooking the rooftops of London

And you are independent 

And you are free to speak your mind

And perform upon the stage 

And write

And do exactly as you please.

And you thank all the people who have bought you here. 

And you thank Virginia Woolf for paving the way for women writers (even if her end was tragic). 

And you think of all the women that didn’t, and still don’t, have this privilege. 

And you resolve to keep writing. And keep singing. And keep acting. And hope that you too can make a difference.

The end.