an apartment overflowing with stuff
written 20240124.
i was meeting up with a friend at a cafe in the city. it was a hole-in-the-wall, a place that had once been trendy because it had an industrial aesthetic, exposed bricks and ducts and pipes, but which had descended into a dingy, but pleasant kind of decreptitude. and which would be closing soon, probably to be replaced by another hellishly cool bar, which was why we were meeting there.
i’d arrived early, but decided i didn’t like my outfit, so headed back home to get changed. easy enough. i lived in an apartment right there in the city centre, in an older building that seemed to date back to a time when there shouldn’t have been apartments yet. this was not an old city.
i was well off and my apartment was the size of a small house. coming off the entrance was the living room and dining room. the kitchen and one of the bathrooms down the hall. and at the other end, two sunny bedrooms, both of them mine. the shelves and bookcases and tables were all dark timber and gloriously overflowing with stuff. a whole heap of dresses tumbled out of an open wardrobe in one of the bedrooms.
from this heteroclite collection, i picked out a dress in pretty muted green, that came down to my calves.
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