I want a life where I own a large antique apartment in some beautiful building with lovely neighbors & every room has light and large windows

This kitchen would have a big window over the sink & it would have a kitchen with a cookie jar and it smell like coffee and faintly like cigarettes from the occasional call to my youth

It’s really just my grandmas house if it were mine. I want my grandmas house. That’s all I’ve ever wanted really.

I have bees & id harvest honey. I’d learn have to make jellies and jams. All while doing something big and innovative.

I’m meant to do something no one has ever done before.

In that house, I would try and find the perfect way to arrange the furniture & what my favorite wine/beer, I’d find my favorite cigarette. I’d learn to make the perfect pie

I would read, I would get to know my grandma as I shifted through the rest of her things, I’d find myself, I’d invite people in. We’d dance in the back yard.

I’d plant new bushes/plants outside of her house & id paint her house a fresh color.

I’d probably cry if I ever got the chance to put my name on her mail box

I’d paint daisies on it