Caged Nightingale

33- Saara

Harsh angles and blocks.  That's my first impression from the outside.  But in this heat, I just need to get inside.

The lawn is lined with fushia and white gardinias which contrast with the lush green lawn, but I don't stop to really take them in as Mohsin ushers me inside.

Once inside I am shocked by the change in decor. Everything is dark.  Beautiful exposed brick walls,  slabs of concrete, charcoal and navy unholstery, chrome appliances integrated seamlessly into the house, from Loewe screens to Bang and Olufsen gadgets. A high tech system is installed, with LED screens in every room that do amazing things from video calling, to security footage to playing music and controlling the temperature in each room. The dark decor is punctuated with a little colour, tan leather sofas, teal leather chairs with matching footstools and even a painting on the wall which looks suspiciously like a Hans Hofmaann landscape.  

Polished hard wood floors and rich pile rugs are all over the house. Huge LED TV screens in most rooms and the furnicture is . . .cool retro chic which plays with the eyes and makes the whole place seem a little more interesting and less angular.  Curved coffee tables and a set of drawers on spindly legs in pine and mahogany add a quirkiness to the interiour.  But there is no doubt. This is a man's home, a bachelour pad through and through.

There are clean lines everywhere. No clutter.

The kitchen looks spotless, mable and granite. The only thing visible on the worktops in a stunning set of knives and a blender.  The oven still has its plastic linning on it- never been used and the fridge has drawers with fruit and vegetables and bottles of water but nothing else. There is a huge hob with atleast 8 burners, which is interesting considering it looks like new. Charcoal grey cabinets line the walls, again creating a clean asthetic but not one that looks lived in, used or even welcoming.

The bedroom is the same, the grey, black and chrome punctuated with warm amber coloured  accessories like lamps and varses which glow richly in the darkness. Its a sensual room with depth and texture. On the wall an  Ad Reinhardt cross print catchs my eye amongst other arty prints.  I begrudgingly admit it is a lovely room despite the high levels of mascline testerone that seem to be imprinted everywhere. 

Asma is not far behind, she marches into the room  with mohsin behind her - carrying a mountain of boxes and bags. She  walks straight to the far door, where there is closet.

She doesnt go as far as helping me put the items away, but she points to where they need to go and gestures pointedly.  I follow her instructions thinking about how silly it is to have so much clothes for such a short amount of time. But Asma has stopped talking and I turn to find her sitting on a velvet stool, smiling at an open velvet jewellery box.  Then she calls me over and I walk over to kneel beside her.  She looks at the set then back at me as if she expects me to congratulate her on her great taste. I do and try my best not to roll my eyes.  'The design of this set is inspired by the nightingale.'  she says pulling me back down to sit on the ground beside her when I begin to get up.  'I thought it was quite fitting for you' she says and there is no humour in her voice or expression.   Instead she passes me the case and takes out the earings one at a time and puts them on me. They are heavy and a little uncomfortable and Asma tuts in annoyance whilst I figit. Then she moves the hair back from my face and smiles. 'Wears these tonight.' she says smirking 'and nothing else.  Men like Atif need to be dominated inside the home. Let him see you flourish under his indulgence.' She takes a deep breath  wistfully and then stands abruptly, as if to leave.

'Make sure you take care of this.' she says to the bags and boxes strewn over the floor before she walks out without a backwards glance.