Harriet The Spy

I'm sitting and typing away at the computer i'm going to have in my room. It's downstairs right now, but soon it will be in my room where thoughts seem to flow more frequently and easily. I want to do that whole "Harriet-The-Spy" work in my room. I'd love to have a typwriter, even just the sound of fingers gliding across a normal keyboard seem to sound like music clunking along the old keys of a typewriter. A pen stuck in the wild mess of my hair, my legs curled up under me, rain pattering against the windowpane and the "ding" of ressurance when you've reached the edge of the paper. I'm re-doing my room, giving it a new story. There are just three main pieces of furniture i really want. An old distressed bookcase, maybe with an old, clouded , stained door on it. A big desk, right in front of my open window, for paper, pencils, stacks of books on photography, and my computer/typewriter. And lastly a bed, filled with pillows and blankets. I want to hang national geographic pictures teared from my magazines, black and white photos taped to the walls and stacked all over that i've taken on my dad's old camera. I'd love to develop them.
Hardwood floors, black worn converse(i love thinking of their story of walking mountains in cali).
I want my room to have "a little romance without getting too cinderella sweet", i want to take myself, and have my room capture that.
I want my room to look like the sky has come in.