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Thinking Outside the Home
“I don’t want anything in there,” Angelou said, when elaborating on her spartan hotel habit. “I go into the room and I feel as if all my beliefs are suspended. Nothing holds me to anything.” The home is filled with the familiar, and the familiar snares our attention, destabilizing the subtle neuronal dance required to think clearly.
newyorker.com • Thinking Outside the Home
Maya Angelou would rent hotel rooms to write, asking the staff to remove all artwork from the walls and enter each day only to empty the wastebaskets. She’d arrive at six-thirty in the morning, with a Bible, a yellow pad, and a bottle of sherry. No writing desk was necessary; she’d instead work lying across the bed