A week ago while enjoying a few nights off in London, we stayed in “Esther’s loft.” I don’t know who Esther is, but I was pretty sure that she had crawled inside my brain, extracted blue prints, and designed my fantasy bohemian artist loft.

Top floor of an old warehouse building in East London, it was decked out with all sorts of random shit that I love. Lots of light; a fire escape garden, weird antique light fixtures; colorful mis-matched furniture; loft beds…

I want to go to there. Again.