Before moving in with him, I used to share a flat in central London with two of my dearest friends.
It was a council condo between Camden and Tottenham Court Road, and I have the fondest memories of that place. It wasn’t particularly pretty: the furniture was old and mismatched, the kitchen was tiny and the PVC on the floor was stained and risen up on the corners. The bathroom was separate from the toilet (why…London, why?) and the sink was the small corner one. It had a bathtub though.
Milou and I could smoke inside, and Carola was patient enough to put up with the smell of cigarettes that lingered onto the sofas and curtains. We had the best parties and dinner nights there, and our friends had started to call our place ‘the Chickery’.
There is one thing that was objectively beautiful and that, along with the evenings with the girls, I miss so much: the view from my bedroom’s window.
Every time the sun would move or the weather change, it offered a whole new view and feel, and could influence my mood from the moment I woke up in the morning and looked out. It was so beautiful and breathtaking that I couldn’t help but photographing it, every time I could.