Something that is mine
The first place of my own was a tiny, furnished studio apartment. It came with a kitchenette, a desk, a wardrobe and a bed. Pretty much everything a student would need. Back then I read a lot and owned many books, and since there wasn’t a dedicated space for them, they were lying around everywhere. Some were piled up next to my bed, some in a box, and a few on my desk.
One day I finally bought a cheap Ikea bookshelf and filled it with all the books. I arranged them so my favorites would be at eye level and easily visible. On the top shelf I placed my small whisky collection and some photos of friends and family. Usually my apartment was quite messy and I didn’t mind too much. But I always kept the bookshelf meticulously clean.
Now I live in an apartme…
Something that is mine
The first place of my own was a tiny, furnished studio apartment. It came with a kitchenette, a desk, a wardrobe and a bed. Pretty much everything a student would need. Back then I read a lot and owned many books, and since there wasn’t a dedicated space for them, they were lying around everywhere. Some were piled up next to my bed, some in a box, and a few on my desk.
One day I finally bought a cheap Ikea bookshelf and filled it with all the books. I arranged them so my favorites would be at eye level and easily visible. On the top shelf I placed my small whisky collection and some photos of friends and family. Usually my apartment was quite messy and I didn’t mind too much. But I always kept the bookshelf meticulously clean.
Now I live in an apartment that I furnished myself. Every piece of furniture is something I chose, and there’s nothing I don’t like. But I’ve been thinking about that old bookshelf. It was my favorite thing in the studio. It stood out in the middle of everything I couldn’t change. Now that I can shape my home however I want, I no longer have that one thing that feels special in the same way. Everything fits, but nothing stands out.