I’ve spent nights in many different homes — staying over at friends’ places, with acquaintances. And every time, I was struck by how different the feeling of a space can be.
There are homes where, the moment you step inside, you feel a kind of fuss. Even if everyone is kind and welcoming, the atmosphere still feels tense. You wake up in the morning and instead of calm, you feel anxiety right away, as if you’re late for something, even though the day has just begun. Cupboards slam, pots clang, the washing machine roars at full speed, a spoon hits the metal sink with that sharp, irritating sound. You haven’t even fully opened your eyes yet, but you already feel guilty for still being in bed. You think: my God, what is going on?
And then there are completely different homes. Everything there moves slowly and quietly. You wake up in blissful silence and think, did I wake up before everyone else? You step out of the room, and the table is already set, breakfast is ready. Someone is sitting and reading the newspaper, someone quietly makes you tea. You didn’t even hear any of it being prepared. You only feel the scent. The scent of coffee. The scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery downstairs.
These two kinds of homes feel like two different worlds. In one, you’re pulled into stress and anxiety from the very first morning moments. In the other, everything feels as if it’s happening in slow motion — a sweet serenity, a deep, gentle calm.
Every home has its own rhythm. And that rhythm quietly seeps into you.
