It is interesting to live in a rented apartment. To stare at the fireplace wondering who looked at it before. To imagine how they walked from one room to another, through your sofa that was not there, like ghosts. To fantasize who is going to live here after you, in a year after you leave, in two years, in five years, in ten years, in fifty years, in a century from now. Perhaps the apartment complex itself will not endure for that long. Living in a rented apartment embodies the transience of life.
I like this relatively new apartment of mine. There are trees in its windows, and squirrels are busy running back and forth storing nuts in branches.
















