I'm living in a house that belongs to an architect who's created a space the height of the floor stories. 

A glass ceiling illuminates Marjorelle Blue walls, a cascade of stained glass spheres drop from the ceiling above an alcove lined with ochre kelim cushions and rugs.  I park my bike in all this blueness and pull the door shut.  I'm just skimming the surface here; a room to sleep in, a roof terrace so I can see the sky and, on clear days, the mountains. A kettle down in the kitchen and Radio 4 breaking up the silence.