There is Another Word for Attic

There was another attic I remember.
It was a small place, it rarely got busy. Sometimes I would go there just to think.
It was quiet and I liked it.

With time, my life got settled in a nice rythm and a level of comfort.
I found myself visiting the attic less and less.
I don’t think it was because I got busier, even though I certainly was.
It felt like an itch went away.
So the attic got used less and less, the furniture got covered with sheets, dust settled.
I think I went years without visiting.

The wheel of life turns though and once again I find myself with an abundance of free time.
And I feel an itch.