Not many are blessed with a chance of living in a dream house. I have been living here for sometime.

The house lies in a wing of the city where a lot of construction work is on. The rooms within are all queued up, one leading into another.Thus the room first in the line with its entrance reserves the right to the sunlight courtesy the peephole window. A bit of the sunlight is focused into the adjoining room with some kindness and reluctance.

The other rooms are cave dark fit for moles.The rest of the house has no opening whatsoever. Seeking some sunlight if I attempt to open the  the door at the entrance, a hurl of dust  from the moving vehicles forcibly tends to blow me like a bay leaf right

at the end of the tunnel, wherein lies the toilet. Now in the toilet unfolded another scene;the fitting under the washbasin had fallen off suddenly and water gushed out in spurts, plumber summoned, an argumentative person, who insisted this could not have happened by itself. Did I go a stomping or a highland flinging in my sleep?

Down the passageway, it is a hanging garden with tufts of fungus chipping the damp walls; a microscope could have been educative.

The house has been pioneered and lodged by a junior family member, X [academic purposes]for a month, and with whom I do not see eye to eye literally, for when I’m awake, X is asleep and vice verse. However, the sun is indulgent and has agreed to rise twice, that is, once more for me in the morning.

Then there is the neighbour who has improvised a seating arrangement outside the house, legitimately, because of the dark interiors and to whom every passerby is answerable.

Nevertheless, everything isn’t as bad; the lighting is elaborate, they are aspiring chandeliers. Elaborate florescent orange motifs smiling on the ceilings are there to cheer you up. And there are droves of people enquiring when I shall vacate, to be merrily pancaked and crammed into these similar houses and noises.

A step or two, there is a charming and irresistible stretch of shops on both sides of the road. I think I should sport something similar to a bridle whose joints on either side will restrict the peripheral vision of my eye and make me walk only straight ahead.Looking on either side really slows me down.

Lastly, the darkness really makes one dream. I shall be leaving this place shortly, so I leave some memories to share.