My family lives in a three-room flat of a typical block of flats with a lift and rubbish chute. Our flat is on the sixth floor. As you enter the flat you find yourself in a small hall and from there you can go to the living room, my parents' bedroom and my room.
I use my room as a study and a bedroom. My room is very tiny but still it's rather cosy and has its advantages. The only window in my room looks out on the park. The walls are papered in a design of white and silver stripes, and the curtains on the window match the wallpaper. The built-in furniture doesn't take much space in the room. On the left, there is a built-in wardrobe and a sofa, next to it — a writing table. The table has got many drawers and I keep there my text-books, notes, lead and coloured pencils, felt-pens, biros, refills, pencil-cases, pencil-sharpeners, booklets, posters, pads and other necessary knick-knacks, as my mother is used to say. In the right corner beside the writing table there's a standard lamp with a pink silk shade and a comfortable arm-chair.
I like to sit in it muffling myself into a plaid and read a thrilling book. Opposite the wardrobe there is a bookcase full of books newspapers, journals, magazines. The floor in my room is parquet, that's why there is neither a carpet nor a rug on it. There are a lot of flowers in my room; they are everywhere — on the window-sill, on the walls and on the bookcase. I take care of the flowers, water them, plant them out, cut dead ij leaves, and once a month I take them to the bathroom and scour them.
My room is a nice place for both rest and work.