This weekend, my sister and I tackled the slightly exhausting task of apartment hunting.
My first apartment shopping experience was typical: climbing countless flights of stairs in Soho walkups, debating the liveability of an eight-by-eight bedroom, running from the rat traps that graced the floors of all too many apartments. Living in Manhattan is convenient and usually fun, but the apartment situations are far from glamorous.
On our less daunting search this past Saturday, I got to thinking about space – a precious commodity when you call an urban center home.
The minimal space between the foot of my bed and the fourth wall of my room: just enough space for the width of my yoga mat – hanging out the door most mornings.
White space, highlighting food that should be slowly savored [in this case, a rich chocolate truffle].
Not an inch of space when I pack a salad for lunch.
Space for ideas and dreams.
Scarce city green space.
My kitchen: space for experiments in flavor.
What space is around you? Are you cramped for space, or do you have too much?