Maybe you squinted last night until 3am with the flickering light of your $9.90 Ikea lamp only to finish the latest novel by Nicole Krauss. Maybe you got so inspired last night, you didn’t go to bed at all and the day light hit you at 7.15 am like a hammer making you realize it’s time to shower off the writer’s sweat and go to your day job. Maybe you already developed a chronic wrist pain because you believe keyboards kill creativity and scribble your Bukowski-inspired novel with tiny neat handwriting into your green mole skin day by day. And maybe just your bookworm Bushwick heart desires to slowly melt into a chair as you’re listening to a well written poem while the fire patiently consumes the forest wood in the fireplace…