We leave maps behind in our wake. An unmade bed is a sort of map, a map of the night, where we spend about a third of our day. I'm not sure what it says, whether the bed is more territory than map, but a photograph of the bed is more map than territory: it is flat and rectilinear and it suggests topography, geography, movement. For all the stillness of sleep, sleep shakes up the landscape. A bed is a place, one of the more important (if judged by time spent in it) of our lives. We start our days here. We end them here. We call the luminous interval between "life," but events in life are far more fleeting and beyond our control. In bed is where we dream.
As an experiment of sorts I'm taking photographs of our bed before it's made in the morning. Above and below are samples.