Tucked away in a corner of a dusty ancient city, which legend holds was founded by the son of a Hindu god, is a plain little brick-and-mortar edifice stubbornly holding its own against this onslaught of age and mythology. Next to it is a modest garden that seems to be fighting another battle: that of nature against the crush of increasing urban development. If the squirrels that inhabit this garden were to climb up the wall that separates it from the building, they would see me sitting in a balcony and writing as I watch their games down below. The place where I now live is a sparsely but comfortably furnished walk-up apartment two flights of stairs up from the ground floor, and one of the things I love most about living here is the view waiting for me just outside the window.
When I tire of watching the “Animal Olympics” I move back inside to resume the day’s chores. Finding an unexpected comfort in these routine activities that are part and parcel of living on one’s own, I can’t help but marvel at how peaceful and calm things are. My building is probably not as noisy as most other apartment buildings in the city; in fact, until dinnertime nears, it can be quite easy to forget that I live–as some might cynically say–clustered with hundreds of other people, in cramped concrete boxes stacked atop each other. But I don’t see it that way. To me, this is home. Yes, it is not the fanciest or most modern building in the city, nor do I have the most luxurious apartment in it. But it is my own little part of the world to rest in and retreat to, and I cherish the security and solitude it gives me.
(Besides, let’s face it: at my weight, I could do with a little more stair-climbing!)
N.B. The prompt asked us to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of the place where we live.
The Barefoot Bookworm 