I would love to live downtown. Maybe it's the people-watching, or the inspiration, or just the antiqueness of it all. I love the thought of renovating an old house, having a flower garden and having real, grown trees in the yard; not the small ones bound by wire at the new construction sites and apartment complexes, real trees that you can hang tire swings on and climb without the worry of broken limbs. The amount of character and inspiration that downtown has is astonishing. I dream of having my own room for things, complete with a wall of shelves with pockets holding different colored yarn and a desk with a window straight above to let in the light. An old kitchen, with old-fashioned pull-back curtains and embroidered dish towels for drying the dishes by hand (it's what we do at home; we hardly ever use the dishwasher), and a living room with an afghan on the sofa, collections of pictures on the wall, hardwood floors and an extended book shelf for old and new books that hopefully I will get around to reading; Also, somewhere for a favorite chair or two made to drink coffee, crochet, and read. Most of my life has been spent in modern, newly-built houses with crisp, clean floors an ceilings; it's fun as a kid, and also a fun adventure to watch the city grow, but sometimes I long for an old, handmade place. Just between the city and the country so as to venture out to the hills once in a while and enjoy the bustling city other times. Often times downtown has been giving me these feelings.