Everybody has his own home, his own place to return after a working day. A nice house to live in, a place to be surrounded by family members, and of most importance, a space to spend part of his life. That's why I dearly call my house "a crib" since deeply in my heart, it's more than just a house, but something watching me grow up and fullfilling me with memories of my family.
Deep in a small alley of Bach Mai street, my greenish colored house flares in an either cool yet friendly first look. Having quite lots of windows, ...view middle of the document...
Of course the one I like the most is my own room. Like all the other room in my beloved house, there's a huge window right above my desk. I've always loved standing in my room, next to the window on an early morning, soaking in the fresh air and feel the sunray lightens up a new day. My bed - which I call my "nest" - is usually in a total mess, but in some way it's organized just to serve my needs. A not-so-tidy desk always full of books and notes, a wall covered by loads of posters and a messy disordered bed make my world.
I actually don't know what and why my house is that special to me. A large and nice bulding, rooms and interior, green trees , or maybe just the paint color? Whatever the reason is, but above all it's the warm feeling of the house that makes me feel tranquil and gives each member of the family determination to complete their own work.
Coming to my house also means joining my family. Once visiters drop in for a short greeting, they'll have the same feeling as one of my friends said: " comfortable and relaxing scent all around". The more I have to stay away from the house for work and study, the more I'm obsessed and close to it. And that's what a true meaning of a hearth is.