The entire feel of an apartment can be determined by the initial entry-way of a building. I find that even my wardrobe has been reflecting similar tones from my arrivals and departures of home, or the home that is slowly becoming.
The smallest space I have lived in so far has been hosting old furniture scavenged from the side of the rue, my many suitcases filled with loved-treasures which are bursting to come out, clothing hanging on the walls like photographs from a college girl's dorm room, and a considerable amount of Ikea boxes hosting never-assembled furniture pieces that are waiting for a helpful guy to come around with a power drill.
As I take the time to consider my surroundings, I realize that I am quite content after all. I am where I want to be; on the top floor of a building with a lovely entry-way and a lift to spare me the hike up six floors, in the neighborhood of Batignolles, living in Paris, France. It does not seem too bad at all.
Bisous,
Reba
1 comment:
Glad to see that you're back!! Now please write, write, and write some more regarding your sights, sounds, tastes, and smells of Paris!!!
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