7/4

Drafty.Claustrophobic.Creaking floorboards.Skylights.Almost a rotten smell about it.

It finally dawned on me that the flat I'm sharing with Martin and Justin is actually an attic.Or maybe it isn't.I'm on the fourth floor.The topmost level.And a winding spiral staircase that's bound to make people dizzy.The heater is working overtime;it's chilly outside but not as severe.Yet.Although I have to walk around the block to dispense my laundry at the laundry room which happens to be located on the ground floor but we don't have the key to the door that leads straight to the room so that we have to take the unnecessary trip,I'm thankful that Tesco is a few steps away from the door,the mosque is at my backyard, and Halal food halls scatter in the vicinity.The Med School is around the corner too.

In my flat,I'm known as Da.Firdaus proves to be pretty mouthful for Martin.In return,I find his Scottish accent unbearably difficult to decipher at times.Justin's from China but has had the privilege to study in the UK.Thus,his strong accent.That aside,they're all very nice people.

Another Iftar with the Seniors.Hopefully,Wan won't be left behind again.I really feel bad.I do.Even though he slept through Iftar...