Migrating to the North-West

Linda came by our place yonks ago for a photo shoot, where I reluctantly co-modeled. That's us against our i-can-buy-a-frigging-vaio wallpaper that has transformed our bland executive into a studio esp with all that amps and guitars strewn around and a 'rawkstar' who wakes me up in the arvos in his checkered boxers and bass strung across singing Interpol's How are things on the west coast?.

I've truly fallen in love with the man and the house - our own expanse of java teak flooring with an unobstructed dusk till dawn view of LRTs. Anyone can fall in love with our house, or rather our home, it's cosy, only a stones throw to a British fish & chips store and flower nuseries to lose yourself in and a bus away from the Salvation Army for weekend scavenges.

So much flora around, befitting for an island's known to the world for its greens. My mama shop too sells perfect karipaps. And that, accesibilty to one's frequent cravings - to all homeseekers - is an important requisite of a good house. :)

I love this picture and if there's one thing that'd yank my chains it's a guy who's into his literature (and looking good while at it).