My bedroom; a long, incredibly narrow retreat of dishevellement and dissaray. It struggles to contain all of my possessions, most of which are strewn across surfaces or piled (in an attempt, on my part, at being neat) against the walls or underneath my desk and bed. Boxes, suitcases, and bags on the floor; books, folders and dvds on the desk. A lack of storage space is instantly noticeable.
Looking out of my window, my eyes dart immediately to the old tenement buildings which resemble the one I inhabit. They form a crescent, encircling a small play park. The sides of the buildings are all blackened from pollution, but this adds to their charm; they encapsulate everything I love about the architecture of Edinburgh.
When I step outside onto my street, the smell of hops hits me in an instant. Usually, there are cars crammed into any available parking space in the crescent; cars on each side of the road leaving only a narrow strip of road avalaible to passing vehicles. Normally there are a few people darting this way and that, crossing the road, entering or exiting cars, or marching hurriedly into one of the surrounding buildings.