I moved into this flat on Mount Terrace with nothing. Just the windows — Victorian sash, original timber, 1850s glass — and the feeling that the space was waiting for something considered rather than quick. Windows with that slight imperfection that makes the light land differently depending on the hour. A flat on Mount Terrace is not decorated. It is edited.
Columbia Road is around the corner, which means I have no excuse and no discipline. Kentia came home one Sunday and never left — still reaching toward the light. Bird-of-Paradise in the middle of the living room was a more deliberate choice. I wanted at least one thing that refused to be quiet. Something that didn't apologise for being there.
It took time. But it's mine now.