Imagine a white sheet of paper, as white and new as a fresh cloud in a breezy summer sky. It's not big, perhaps an A4 size, but it's unruled and untouched. In your hand you're holding a pen. It's a good pen, a point seven black gel rollerball pen, the kind that glides over any surface like a skateboard rolls over smooth asphalt. It sits comfortably in your hand. It feels good. Now, imagine you have to fill the blank.
That's how I felt when I first walked into this one apartment near Seoul Station. It's an old building in an old neighbourhood, but inside it's newly renovated. White, unobtrusive wallpapers, large windows and teek-coloured pvc floor coating. There's a humble kitchen unit, a tiny bathroom and even a little spare room that could serve countless purposes. It's so empty that I don't know where to put down the tip of the pen.
I've viewed a number of apartments, two of them I really liked, but they were both too expensive. And of course, there were many affordable ones that I didn't even like the description of. But then this one place appeared out of nowhere. I opened the door, looked around, and instantly took a liking to it. It wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but the sheer amount of possibilities made it simply irresistable.
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