We describe our rooms.

Sitting in a four door vehicle, with my father in law and my wife Jenny - it smells vaguely like it has rained

A mix of recording studio, art studio, safe haven and private dance club

Left of me is an open window through which a summer breeze blows. My back is to the closest wall, about a meter from where I’m sitting. Across from me is a big screen, left and right of it two speakers through which a summer breeze blows. Behind my screen is another desk not occupied by its owner at the moment. Desks are white. The floor is wood and old. Don’t walk without shoes you will get spiked. On the right, a wall with a tall window and an open door through which a summer breeze blows.

I’m sitting in a kitchen that’s as big as the first flat I lived in. It’s got a table wide as one bed and long as two, but we only eat from a small part of it. The rest has some old plates, a couple of fruits, and cookbooks. Behind me, the stairs, where I expect a cat to watch over me (even though there’s no cat in this house) and in front of me, on the opposite wall, a big kitchen stove, the kind that heats you all winter. There is little light in this kitchen because all the windows and blinds are shut, to avoid heat. Above the table, a sticky trap with a dozen flies.

About a third of the room is taken up by my bed which is in the corner touching two of the walls. At the opposite end of my room from the head of my bed is a window that faces east. Perpendicular to the window, against the wall to its left, is a bookshelf. The top two shelves are a collection of my favourite novels, the third shelf is for literary publications and magazines, and the bottom shelf is for some of my music collection (CDs, vinyl, cassette, etc.). Beside the bookshelf and in front of the window is another shelf that is open on all sides. Atop the shelf is an old video camera that was handed down to me as well as 2 plants. On the highest proper shelf is a diffuser and a speaker for listening to music. The shelf below that features a collection of cameras I use for photography, some of which are film and some of which are digital. The shelf below that is where I keep some guitar pedals and midi controllers, and the bottom shelf just has a basket that I throw random small items into. Against the wall that is opposite my bed is my computer desk. On the desk are the various peripherals like my mouse, keyboard, and monitors. To the right of my desk is a stand that I keep my guitars and bass on. The only remaining space is the door to enter my room, and the closet door.

On the walls themselves are various photos I've taken and art I have purchased.

The room I’m sitting in is non-traditional—it’s a car. I’m sitting in the back seat. The ceilings in this room are very low but there’s lots of natural light and a great view.

Metallic balloons hang in honor of the woman who resides within, spelling out the name by which she prefers to be called, hanging from two shelves adorned with various interpretations of the maneki-neko (and a (sac)religious candle with the visage of Tom Hardy) that are mounted to the light lime green walls (a shade some may believe to be closer to yellow) above a rack dedicated to thrift-store shoe finds, adjacent to the baby blue wall that holds a framed print of the Kramer painting (itself, a thrift-store find) and houses the closet whos folding doors maintain a hefty collection of bags and purses, behind which lay various potential outfits, and besides which resides a dry-erase calendar (one month past its relevance, the notes a reminder of what was to be remembered), the full-length mirror around the bend the arbiter of potential vs. actualized outfits and the desk by that an artist's station holding various bric-a-brac designed for the finishing touches applied to this woman before she makes her morning debut, this woman whose name is held in lightness across the way.

I'm sitting in the kitchen of old housemates, friends who now live thousands of miles from me. Sounds of revving engines and a humid breeze both wander through the window. The stool under me is too high, so I rest my feet at uncomfortable angles on the wooden bars that connect the stool legs. An oiled pan rests on the stove, bathing suits dry on the radiator, and two plants rustle beside me on the table. Two thick mats lay on the floor to hold and comfort anyone who takes the time to stand at the stove or sink and contribute to the rhythms of nourishment. Printmaking equipment rests on the counter behind me.

It's my childhood bedroom and I did not think I would still be in here at the current time, but here we are. White paint, a bed, a desk, a lamp, a plant, some mirrors probably reflecting bad energy back at each other. Also my cat.

I'm getting tired of seeing these same four walls, but it is what it is.

I’m at the beach looking at the shooting stars.

i'm sitting at my kitchen. i just moved into this apartment so nothing matches and everything feels messy. the dinner table has some old flowers in a vase, a mixer, clorox wipes, hand sanitizer, a pile of mail, and 2 big bowls. maybe i'll get a tablecloth this week.

Relatively small. Stacks of books and small bins. Computer. Art supplies. Disorganized. Light gray walls. Carpet, unfortunately.

A rectangular living room on the east coast that is sweltering from the heat

This room has been a bedroom before but due to one wall refusing to reach ceiling height it remains partially open to the adjoining stairwell. This is to accommodate a ‘cathedral’ ceiling. Less grand then it sounds, this just means there is pitch enough to allow for a slim row of windows. It’s a pleasant enough room but not very private. I currently use it as a study but increasingly as a place to shift to once I wake up and am no longer comfortable lying down. Sleep is annoying. I feel like I wake up feeling worse than when I crashed these days. I would sleep sitting up if that made sense. Where we live has become known for some of the more stringent Covid lock down regimes (although there are worse). Due to a lack of vaccines, there have been many instances of this. We are in one now and I’ve taken to getting up and sitting on the grey felt sofa in here to watch the sun illuminate the view of the city skyscrapers through the trees. At the same time as the light gives fresh daily form to shape of the room.

I’m laying on my bed with my dog who is destroying a stuffed animal pig and a stuffed animal fish. The room is big with a large mirror and tall windows. There are lots of potted plants. The bird of paradise plant has false nettle starting to grow in it. I’m not sure how it got there.

crowded

Breezy and comfortable

a surprisingly brick airport gate

White walls. White desk. Two green plants. An A/C unit forgotten on the floor. An ukiyo-e print next to me on display. A barricade of electronics on my right side. A dog grunting behind me.

it is very long. the floor and windows shake in a reassuring way. there are fifty four seats with identical soft blue covers. people are looking out windows or sleeping. one child is making squeaking noises and waving a barbie doll. we pass trees and dirt mostly.

it's a living room -- (alive!?) -- with happy blue walls and cozy couches and a hand-knit multi-color blanket. there's a banjo in one corner and a scratcher post for a cat in another. the windows are open and it is very, very hot. a plant is growing to my right, board games are stacked to the side, the wifi is good. i feel at home here. i've lived here two weeks, and these objects are not mine, but they are no longer strange to me. soon i hope to hear the banjo played.

Hotel room

Mexico. terracotta tiles, smoke-filtered light, doorway windows, ceiling clouds, a well-loved loveseat, a well-traveled table, creaky chairs, Prince's vault vibrating, stacks of books, crates of records, half-finished tidying, indecisive plants, birds on every wall, a shrine atop a woodstove, fridge noises beckoning, a person sitting and typing an email

Smaller every day.

I am sitting in a room made of wood with rough hewn beams in the corners and ceiling. the floor is concrete stained red but there’s a hemp carpet. it’s abt 3 times the size of the twin bed in there. there’s a pair of east-facing windows looking onto a downward-sloping field with forest beyond. the windowsil runs across the entire wall, and i have four plants on there, from a tiny cutting to a tall geranium that had the most beautiful red blossoms in july. on the south wall is my bed and, above it, built-in shelves: i have books, pottery, textiles, postcards, my dad’s watercolors, and skincare stuff on there. against the west wall is a small dresser with three drawers. above is a clothesline with cyanotypes and paintings on paper by my friend eva. and to the north next to the door is a long table, which is just a board on metal legs strewn with books. two bells hang from the ceiling, one in front of the window (a crisp, searing ring) and one near the door (a clunky, frantic jingle). i ring them to clear my head, or when i bump into them.

Windows galore, in every direction you look. The scenery outside of the windows is beautiful, just lots of greenery and sunlight, as I sit in a pretty comfortable leather seat with Spotify playing. We’re all comfortable, actually. Thank God for AC, I’d be boiling otherwise.

a big open circle looking out onto a big circle. A painting with a two headed lesbian queen directing dragons and snakes, but she belongs to my roommates ex girlfriend and her time with us could be limited. a whole library from the former occupants and bits of cut off straws from the current one under every surface. Geo rocks guitar with four strings a stripper pole and a dance floor. smell of closed windows and incense. Feel of inertia and witch craft. Rugs. Pictures of our younger bodies. A bag of wigs on the top shelf. A poster that says 'hip hop Balkan swing' or 'hip Balkan hop swing' depending on how you look at it. Tarot cards and empty Kapla box a grinder a stack of dead computers. Binoculars and a ribbon tied around the handle.

kidney shaped table, bed, wood on one wall, one nook, a window in 3 parts, almost always open (I like the breeze). 2 desks, 3 lamps, one doesnt work. a string of lights over an old fireplace (flower tiles, cracked hearth), a flute, a closet set into the wall, by the other desk 2 mirrors, one ornate one plain, paints, books, instruments, paper - it's too messy ! shoes in little rows plastic cabinet, bookshelf, me (i'm on a soft pink chair)

White walls and a desk with a laptop. One door on the north wall and two windows, facing south and west. Three jade plants. Four guitars. A record player with some records.

It is a bedroom that is not yet a bedroom. Yes, it is a room, and yes it has a bed, but it is still not feeling like a bedroom.

Room is a moving box, blue shiny seats horizontal, air leaking in from the doors. Shooting through an underground tunnel.

Spacious and cool but not cold — bugs fly in and sometimes they die here.
We mop

Square pattern floor

too much stuff, why is there so much stuff.

sad comfort

medieval

It is such a large room in that it is a park. I am looking across a small pond and there is a swan preening itself. There are two small children playing with weeping willow branches.

dark with a small couch, cardboard boxes scattered on the floor, portable washer near the new wifi router two large windows with blinds closed disneyland ashtray on the coffee table from the old house

Messy. Chaotic. Cluttered. Another half-baked project for the graveyard. And now it's time to pack it up before it was even ever finished.

monasterial
temporarily cluttered

It's a white rectangle. Three table-lamps. One on the cupboard with clothes and two more on a long self-made ''kitchen'' table. Good warm lighting at the moment. A bed to the right of the table. This computer screen is on the table in front of me. Books, notebooks, pens, pencils, markers, some tools and other objects on the table. An exit to the balcony to the left. No curtains, but a golden-orange cloth hanging over the balcony door. Wooden floor. Another table structure made of a keyboard stand with a heavy 1,5-1,6 thick ''building plate''(of material i know not the name of) over it is at the left end of the long table. A good leather chair with metal rails on each side, taken/borrowed from the building where i lived in a studio before this one is in front of it. I am sitting on a nice wooden chair at the right end of the table. Facing west. Behind me the door to a little foyer with a seriously thick wooden door to the main hall of the building. Oh, also behind me is another, smaller cupboard piece with more books in it, two small speakers on it with a little preamp. Music is playing.

And yours?

Sitting in an outdoor room, a porch overlooking some Swedish grasslands and lakes. There's probably gonna a bunch of mosquitoes here.

i'm in the firefly sanctuary. it's small, but just right. the air conditioning is softly humming, and a glowing lantern is to my right.

It's small — smaller than I'd like, but then it's not my room. The walls are a light grey, but covered with art — some framed prints, some embroidery, and a smattering of doodles and woodcuts and various other bits of paper tacked up at the entrance. To my left, sunlight lazily streams in, after being filtered by the magnolia tree and the stained-glass window edges. I'm sitting on the bed, which takes up nearly half the room. In front of me is a desk — since my partner's been gone, it's just been collecting clutter — some rope, a receipt, a couple pens, a small stack of books. Just next to the desk, the door is slightly ajar, letting music flow in from a few rooms over. There are a couple more bits of furniture — a bedside table, a dresser, some cubbies holding books and knickknacks and boxes. At the foot of the bed is a closet — larger than you'd expect, but still smaller than you'd want. I sit on the edge of the bed, in the center of the room, typing this to you.

A tiny room with white walls. I feel secure herezzz

the room is a tent and it has a view on an neverending hilltop of grass.

A large open rectangle, which is divided by a staircase going downwards. One side of the rectangle has a pink floor, and the other has wood floors. On both sides of the wooded part the walls are covered with books (on the right side almost to the ceiling). There are kitchen appliances and plates and glasses on the other side, as well as a wooden dinner table made by a friend (Rodrigo). There are several plants on the top shelves and a sofa that we got from Rita's (my partner) parents. Light is coming from the west side windows. The air is dense (the precipitation levels have been at an all time low here). We are currently doing our Sunday cleaning. I am sitting on the floor while writing, having a glass of cold water.

Long hallway in a building converted from a train terminal to galleries and organizational offices. The walls undulate and a collage and hand-drawn sketch of the (small) city I'm located in are nearby. A fake plastic flower leans out of a small plastic flowerpot. The chairs are simple though likely expensive designer chairs, though who is to say: I'm in Denmark.

large windows facing south that lock in the warmth... a hand crank standing desk, mattress on the ground, air purifier, muji humidifier, slender mirror against the windowsill, black yoga mat rolled up, standing in the corner all the things you'd find in a bedroom, but this one is mine

I'm sitting in my childood room. There is 3 guitars/basses on the wall and a lot of random stuff !

Spacious
Warm
Quiet
Long
Lonely

A toilet with high school gym flooring. There’s boards filled with vintage Lego figures I collected over the years. The wall I’m facing has memorabilia of our beautiful life together. Pictures, flyers, post cards and little notes we left for each other. There’s a cricket bat serving as a holder for toilet paper. It’s been a rough week, very emotional. Being aware of all I have through the little things in here is comforting.

It’s small but feels bigger due to the amount of things to look at. The walls are covered in my art, showing my progress through the years. Empty cans and half full water glasses adorn the table next to me. The carpet is stained with paint water, and my patches are laid out to dry. It’s quiet, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

im in my car, on my lunch, my life feels crystalized, listening to lolita podcast

I can see how dark it is outside through the window and the door to the balcony. Im sitting on a red bean-bag, my legs on the giant mock-persuan rug I got on facebook markentplace - both a cool, faded shade red. The table light (which has not worked in months, gotta fix that) and one of the picture frames above my bed are also red. There are many misplaced objects laying around - shoes, notebooks, a water bottle, worn-but-not-laundry-stage-yet clothes, reusable facemasks, my bag. The standout is a standart, one legged electric fan, dead center in the middle of the room, generating a continuous monotone hum and a gentle breeze.

no dishes except for a mug, no one on the couch except for the floor cushion, no artifical light needed (yet), no natural breeze.

Bright, yet gloomy

There is a window that faces a hill that is closer than you would think. half the vines are dead. Several questionably built structures. A desk, a bookshelf, two lamps, a bed, a laundry hamper perpetually full.

It's a hotel room in Stockholm. We're watching Community S03. It's amazing.

8’ x 12’, or thereabouts. The white paint on the walls was applied in several in expert coats, some of which have cracks and peels, and the sheets of cheap don’t-know-what-it’s-called material To which the paint was applied are starting to lift up from the walls in several places. The front door has had three different locking mechanisms on it; The side door, four. In both cases, only one now works.

Boyfriend’s parents home. Weird shoes on the floor. That home’s smell. Getting ready to walk the dog, a breeze with the screen door open. I am the interloper. I listen to foreign drama in the air, and smile because I just love to listen. Sitting on the couch with a sparkling water.

A loft, where everything is part of a house, every part of a house blending into a loft.

Poorly lit -- the ceiling light is broken.
Messy -- the floor is littered with half-started projects.
Lived in -- for the last 15 years.

Think Tetris. Like a 3x2 piece but one corner is missing. That missing corner is part of my bedroom next door. The room I'm in is my office/music space. Although, I don't play that much music anymore. More focused on programming. The tip with one of the corner's missing is where the window is. It's a floor to ceiling window that takes up half the width of the wall. Outside is a clothes line. Attached to it are some towels swaying in the breeze.

It's a quiet, tranquil room. Very light brown/violet carpet and blank white walls. Skinny rectangular yellow sticky notes on the wall above my desk with tasks to complete on a daily basis. At the bottom end of the Tetris piece is a closet space with some drawers and lots of rails to hang clothes. Cables of various kinds hang from these rails instead of clothes. A couple of headsets and a Tae-Kwon-Do belt are also hanging. A few shirts and jackets that get seldom used also hang here. Some musical instruments scattered in nooks and crannies. A square table and a rectangular desk. 2 boom stands mounted on the desk. A brown filing cabinet behind me. Some couch cushions for sound dampening. A white panel heater for warmth, some black analog audio equipment not plugged in, facing the heater from the opposite wall. A couple of wheely chairs and a pair of black jeans folded on the floor. An iPhone on the floor near the feed of my desk. An Android phone next to my right hand. Blue cables connected to two beautiful microphones, scraps of white paper with scribbles and numbers.

2 acoustic guitars leaning on the wall, in the corner at the tip of the Tetris piece.

Surrounded by tiles and flies

Hello
The room is red because I made it with cheap red velvet.
The story is
I wanted to make a mini theater of it but corona came up
so I turned it into a hut with my friends and now we're telling ourselves stories and tales in it,
and I sleep in it.
We can put the room in a bag or use it as a coat.

a place for dreams