Иногда дома рождаются от сущей ерунды. Лежу я...

Sometimes houses are born from sheer nonsense. I lie here in the bathroom, and suddenly - I am no longer lying in my bathroom, but in a completely different place. Do architects, you know, well developed spatial thinking. Therefore, I get up there, in this alien bathroom, put on a dressing gown, look out into the corridor. I go out into the kitchen. On the street - a warm summer evening, golden rays poured a wooden table. “So the windows are facing west,” my pragmatic brain calculates. I go around a corner, I see a ladder upstairs. Under the staircase is an archway to illuminate the passage from the kitchen to the living room. Immediately - exit to the street under a canopy. There is a garden. Smellantly smells in the summer. It looks like “here” is already the middle of August. In the living room, near a large gray stone fireplace in the English style, a table with three armchairs was cozy. Next - plush blue sofa. On the ceiling - old beams. There are books along the walls under the windows. On the second floor of the house there is a tiny office with a window in the middle and a nursery for two boys of 8 years old. Boys love the sea. Everywhere the marine theme and striped textiles. The corridor that connects these two rooms - with a window and a French balcony. I look out: Oh la la! So this is not an old English cottage, as I thought at the beginning, but a very French one. This can be seen in the form of the roof, on white uneven plastered walls, on light blue shutters.
I am going down, because I have not looked at everything. The staircase leads to a corridor that connects the kitchen and hallway. What hallway? Oh, yes the passage is diagonally, why so? This is not practical, do not fit cabinets! Shout, the brain, here - diagonally, then diagonally. Past me run translucent, like a ghost, boys. I go back to the living room, touch the backs of the books, see that the coals in the fireplace are still fresh. Apparently, just burned yesterday. Around this stone colossus I discover a secret door. She leads into the master bedroom. The brain persistently throws up typical pictures of what is behind the door. I resist. Behind the door is a corridor. Long, narrow, dark. On the right wall of the fireplace, on the left everything in the shelves for books. At the end - exit to the street. What for?? I do not like such corridors, immediately think of how to do better. But all this is not that, that is not what is here. Two doors hid between the books: one to the bedroom with a passage to the dressing room. The other is in another bathroom. The windows face east. I wander around the house a little more, looking into every corner. I find hidden pantry, refrigerator, boiler room. Another corridor. But I take it for granted, well, what to do, they say, they love such corridors here. Not returning to the bathroom. Just feeling myself in my own again. While I was wandering "there", in reality half an hour passed and the water began to cool. Well, now get up, dress and go draw it ...