Home Sweet Home

I love my apartment. I love my street and I love my suburb. It's my safe place, my happy place and my home. I know I'll look back on this apartment in years to come with a beautiful sense of achievement. My first little apartment. I am so proud of furnishing the place entirely for free, and how it just all seems to fit. I love all the little noises that I seem to know so well now. I can tell which neighbour is coming home, I know which door makes what noise as it swings a little bit in the breeze from the open balcony door. I love coming home and having a place for everything that is mine, or my roomies, and knowing that it is all our responsibility. Like real life grown ups.

Tonight I got home from my little brother's 5th birthday dinner to an empty apartment. I stripped off my scarf and jacket and hung them in their respectful homes, kicked off my thongs and took off my jeans. I walked into the kitchen and I grabbed my favourite glass and filled it with chilled water from my water jug that was in my fridge. I flicked on the TV and curled up on the couch with my QANTAS blanket and watched my favourite TV show. I felt so comfortable, so safe and homely. Just me in my space.

Home is where the heart is and this is where my heart resides.

Tram in Booth Street, Annandale. 1955

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