I call it my greenhouse because I meditate and smoke weed out there. There are two overstuffed comfy armchairs, some copper twinkle-lights, and a giant antique ashtray. The roof is see-through and covered in vines, which have made their way inside too. The tendrils are starting to wrap their way around Elly’s painting of her mother. It’s technically outside but you can shelter from the weather. It’s a good place for pulling yourself together, taking some deep breaths, and secret kisses.
