Hobbit hole

I live in a hobbit hole. With some modifications.

Rock, rather than grassy knoll, surrounds me. The apartment is carved into a hill, and in the bedroom, 75% of one wall consists entirely of rock as it was. Never moved. Not shaped. The remaining walls share the rock’s features but come in the shape of stones.

One stone door – leading out to the great room – is curved overhead. I duck every exit and entry because the stone lingers too low for comfort. Two windows, one small and one large, bring in the only natural light.

The apartment – with its rock and low ceiling – swallows sound. There’s  a negative echo, such that I don’t trust whether I heard a sound or not because it is gone almost before it started.

Its not bad. The walls’ thickness lends itself to a feeling of security, the kind of comfort you get from a friend’s arm around your shoulder. The other features enhance the space: a wall of windows and overhead natural lighting in the living room, ledges and nooks carved into the bedroom walls for pictures or books, and dark, natural wood furniture that adds a sense of quality to this modest abode.