A week left in my teenage home

With one week left to moving out, I'm starting to get sentimental about this old place with the weirdly elongated living room, scratched parquet and the contant buzzing of the CTE outside my bedroom window. After all, I've spent most of the past 2 decades here. My possessions are a giveaway of the time I've spent in this apartment. I've got school books and Duran Duran posters to floppy disks and videotapes to junk.

Luckily for me and Mama Bear, the emotional separation from our soon-to-be former home will be a gradual one. The flat will be here sitting empty while the en bloc sale discussions proceed (I was gladdened to see the potential buyer's land surveyors in the car park today). Plus we'll need to pop by to dispose of some more unwanted stuff after the move.

In the meantime, does anyone want to see my "masterpieces" from art class in Sec Two ?