About my complex. No, not about MY complex. Well, yes about my complex, but not a complex sort of complex.
That made no sense. Let me tell you about the block of flats I live in.
There are seventeen flats in the block, and they are all, I guess, like mine. A builder once told me that they all come in flat packs from Sweden. I have a nice little carport out the back (well, I think it's nice), and the entrance at the front. You can almost see the park down the road actually, I haven't been yet but am planning to. It winds around to the waterfalls, I'm told, which is where... water... uh, falls. The sparrow bit I haven't yet got a clue on. Have seen pigeons, doves, but not sparrows.
Feels somewhat like home now that I've unpacked and put up the paintings and all. Hasn't been too warm this week either, been a nice summer day to come home after work and potter about with things. Finally unpacked the doohickeys as well. I'm feeling surprisingly energetic after all this today, work and organizing things, but Mary says she's feeling a bit run-down. I guess she'll take a bit longer to get used to the country.
You know, no matter where I've lived, I've always had this niggling feeling than I'm not home. Not sure if you know what I mean. Like there's another home waiting for me somewhere - not that I can explain the feeling, you know, it's complex.