#gray white window shades
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svarte-troner · 2 years ago
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Enclosed Kitchen Example of a mid-sized transitional l-shaped dark wood floor and brown floor enclosed kitchen design with raised-panel cabinets, white cabinets, granite countertops, gray backsplash, glass tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island and an undermount sink
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zinaarts · 1 year ago
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Atlanta Library Enclosed
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Mid-sized contemporary enclosed family room library idea with beige walls, no fireplace, and no television.
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macalaelliottphotography · 1 year ago
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Family Room - Enclosed
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Mid-sized transitional enclosed medium tone wood floor family room photo with white walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv
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girl-wonderful · 1 year ago
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Indianapolis Family Room Example of a mid-sized trendy enclosed medium tone wood floor family room design with a music area, no fireplace and no tv
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ifthiswasny · 1 year ago
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Formal Living Room Inspiration for a mid-sized, traditional, enclosed living room remodel with beige walls, a stone fireplace, a standard fireplace, and no television.
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zaynmajor · 1 year ago
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New York Enclosed Living Room a picture of a mid-sized, modern, enclosed living room with a brown floor, dark wood floors, and white walls.
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whatsjohnbeensmoking · 1 year ago
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Kitchen Dining Dining Room in New York Large trendy photo of a kitchen/dining room combination with a medium-tone wood floor, white walls, and no fireplace
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scottdisickfashionstyle · 1 year ago
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Boston Kitchen Dining Dining Room Kitchen/dining room combo - transitional medium tone wood floor and brown floor kitchen/dining room combo idea with gray walls and no fireplace
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mjupnet · 1 year ago
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Mediterranean Home Office in Los Angeles Large tuscan freestanding desk dark wood floor and gray floor study room photo with white walls
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teddybeartoji · 4 months ago
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suguru geto is unbelievably captivating.
he catches your eye immediately – standing tall, he's got one hand on the subway pole to keep his balance. his hair is tucked into his hoodie with only a few strands left out to frame his face. you can only see his side profile but it's enough; a sharp, prominent jawline and a beautiful nose, thin eyebrows, a pierced lip and a pair of tired eyes. you feel bad for thinking it but the dark bags under them leave you no other option.
afternoon sun peeks from the windows behind him, successfully making the scene before you seem like a painting. the colors move; the shades of green flashing by as trees wave you goodbye, the different hues of the tired grays, of the big buildings taking up space as the base of the canvas. splashes of black and white and silver and beige are thrown into the mix, too. his slacks, his big headphones, his jewellery, his totebag. but what truly brings it all together, is his deep, dark maroon hoodie; there's a hint of purple in it aswell, and you just think it's one of the best colors you've ever seen. you figure the thought is a bit silly, but you can't get it out of your head.
something so comforting about it, something so warm and welcoming. something a little murky about it. you can't look away.
you forget about everybody else around you. for you, it's just him in this moment. a total stranger. you don't know him and you probably never will; a pang of hurt hits right under your ribs at the thought. you wonder what his name is, you wonder how his voice sounds. how warm his hands are, and what's his favourite color. no, he doesn't seem like the type to have a favourite color. childish. you'd have to ask about a favourite drink or a book perhaps instead. you're fine with that.
you can spot a few rings on his fingers, a silver watch and a bracelet or two peering from under his sleeve. his hands are pretty. they look good. you also think that you can see a tattoo sprouting from under the collar of his hoodie but the dark lines are blending in with the strands of his hair, so you can't be sure. you want to be sure.
your foot taps against the floor or the cart, your body itching to scoot a little closer to him. you want to see his whole face. you need to. fidgeting with your own fingers, you continue observing the man in front of you. he might step out every second now, you can't waste any more time.
his shoulder seem very broad, his posture almost immaculate. handsome – you think he looks very handsome. well put together. his clothes aren't wrinkled, there isn't a single hair or a speck of dust anywhere on them as far as you can see; the only things that betray his true state of being are his eyes.
purple. glued to the window in front of him, he watches... nothing. he seems a little out of it. he's not focused on the trees or the buildings, the people aside him. you think about what kind of music he might be listening to.
the subway doors open and you jolt, head turning around to look at the platform behind the glass. people stand and leave, and a few come in, leaving an open space for you to take on the bench you're currently sitting on. and you do take it.
there he is.
you can see his eyes a little better now. keen and sharp, he reminds you of a wolf. a malnourished one. the corners of his mouth are tilted down and he really does seem tired. but he's still utterly, utterly beautiful. his skin is almost perfect, his hair shiny and his lips a little glossy. but not too glossy though – no, he definitely uses something like shea butter. something that isn't too thick, something that doesn't smell or taste too strongly. it just seems right.
you've never been this captivated by a stranger before. it's weird. the effect this man has on you without ever even sparing you a glance. you think about asking for it. for a glance. for a second of his time. a fraction of it? anything. everything.
how would he greet you? would he be mad? would he think that you're bothering him? would he give you a smile? a scoff? an eyebrow raise? would he let you ask whatever your heart desires? or would he brush you off, never even removing his headphones when you try to speak to him? oh, it hurts. the blatantly fake heartbreak still hurts.
his trainers are clean - they're white with some accents on them. they match his hoodie. you wonder which he bought first. did he buy the other with the intent of wearing the two pieces together? you want to ask him. that's not his favourite color though, right? no, no – he wouldn't have one. this man reads books and watches movies that are mostly only shown at different festivals. you don't mind it.
films. foreign films. he knows names of the directors from the top of his head, he could probably name a few cinematographers, too. fancy. but that's not his main thing, definitely not. there's something missing, something you can't grasp with just your eyes. what is he passionate about? truly passionate. what does he pour his heart into? is that why he's exhausted? is he tired from loving something? is it starting to hurt now? is it overwhelming? does he want a break? does he want to rest? does he want to get away?
the sun finds your eye from behind his body, forcing you to tear your eyes from him. the cart stops again, the doors open. you try to rub out the slight burn, suddenly a bit frantical that you'll really lose him. you look up and—
he's not there.
he isn't there anymore.
people walk past you, plopping down beside you as you're still trying to find him. turning in your seat, you eye the station. maroon, maroon, maroon, maroon. c'mon, how fast does this man fucking walk?!
but he's just not there.
you think it's unbelievably unfair that it's the sun that made you lose him. isn't she supposed to be full of love? bullshit. with a huff, your shoulders slump and your eyes fall shut while sinking into the bench below you. the cart seems to rumble more now, the seat way more uncomfortable than it was a mere minute ago. you really are disappointed; in yourself and in the world. why didn't you get up? why didn't you speak to him? better to get a no than to drown in the million 'what if' questions in your head. stupid. you're stupid.
"hi."
as you listen to the voice recording of the station names, the very same ones you memorized years ago, you crack open your eyes. your own shoes stare back at you; they're dirtier than his were. you don't think too deeply about the comparison. sun dances on the ground before you, the various shapes entertaining your mind with the shadow play. but you don't stay for long; trailing up, you see the familiar paint and your heart skips a beat. white and maroon. black. maroon. silver.
purple.
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guardiansbelikov · 2 years ago
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Contemporary Landscape in Miami
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passionoverfashion · 2 years ago
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Kitchen - Beach Style Kitchen
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tsundere-sunshine · 2 years ago
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Family Room Enclosed in Boston
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blizzard-bells · 2 years ago
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Dining Room - Beach Style Dining Room
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willqraharn · 2 years ago
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Enclosed - Family Room
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ellie-is · 2 years ago
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Master Bath Bathroom
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