When you enter an apartment, hollowed out of concrete and wood, it is not your home yet. You don’t know it, and it doesn’t know you. So you find a corner and spend the night there, you and the apartment, strangers.
In the morning, you get to know one another. You explore. You clean out the little spider nests in the corners. You sweep. You eat on the counter. You open up your boxes and fill the space with your possessions. You hang a picture. You set your books out on a shelf. You tame the choas that is plumbing. You clean the windows to let in the sun.
And when night comes once more, you put sheets on your bed and curl up with your favorite pillow. You in your apartment. You and your home.