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Leaving My First Apartment

They say home is where the heart is.

If that’s true, this tiny, 472 square foot apartment in downtown Washington, DC is where I’ve lived for the first four years since I moved back to America.

I moved around a lot as a child, and save Abuja, this is the longest I have lived in one place, and it’s one of only three places that really feel like “home” to me.

My Aunt’s house in Abuja, our long gone house in Maitama, and this flat in Washington, DC.

The first time I stepped into my flat, I’ve loved it for it’s light.

Give me a shower big enough for two over a bathtub any day.

My favourite chair. The site of many a Netflix marathon.

I used to get a cleaning service – Handy – to clean my bathroom once a month, and I loved that spotless feeling.

I live on that Elton settee

I bought the TV so I could use it as a computer monitor from across the room.

I had the most gorgeous view of both the US Capitol and the Washington Monument. You have to squint to see it, but it’s much bigger in person.

Curling up in my flat on a Saturday and treating myself to tea and biscuits aatnd my favourite show had to be one of my favourite things.

I can’t accurately put into words how much I love my flat, and how much this flat has done for me emotionally.

It’s been a haven from a hostile, cruel outside world that’s left me jaded, but not enough to scream with laughter in the silence and isolation of my beautiful, beautiful home.




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