When I was small I had a space in the back of my closet amidst my blocks and toy soldiers that I like to hide to think.  When I left home I moved into a series of rooms and apartments that had only one space in which to live, sleep, study, entertain, and to create.  I am older now with a wife, children, and pets still searching for a space to call my own.  It's a pity that we should shamble about this life looking for something to hold on to as our own.  Life is constantly about the shifting of space from one place to the next. 

I have lived in a large room of a large house as a child, to a small room in overcrowded student housing in my late teens, to a solitary room that served as an apartment in my early twenties, to a closet overseas, and finally to large house with many rooms that I share with my family looking to find a solitary moment of peace and tranquility. 

The funny thing is that the space is as infinite as the search for space is endless.  When it is all over the only space that matters is the space that will become your final resting place.