Sunday, 17 February 2013
I arrived in London a sunny September afternoon five years ago, ready to start my new life, full of enthusiasm, hopes and fears. With one small suitcase in hand - the rest of my things would arrive the day after- I took a cab and headed straight home. "Home" been the tiny apartment I've rented two months earlier mostly because I fell in love with the neighbourhood. A stone's throw from Sloane Square Tube, in the heart of Chelsea, it seemed like the perfect, perfect place to be.
The apartment on the other hand was located in an ex council building, maybe the ugliest in the area, if not in entire London. But it was fully refurbished, nicely decorated, it had two bedrooms and a rent that I could afford. And it also had potentials. I knew that with a small effort I could make it feel like real home.