As I lie in the bed, with warm blankets wrapped around me I slowly open my eyes to a room where mirrors and pictures of friends fill the walls. There are pictures of friends of mine, and friends of hers. In a special frame, made of glass, there was a small picture of a girl with long blonde hair, and a perfect smile, a picture of her best friend, my best friend, my life, my sister. In her room, Candles and incense cover the bureau across from one wall. On the other a clock filled with dreamy horse fish sits on the wall, protruding from the flat pictures covering the two dimensional wall. The mirrors show me that I'm the first one up, as I see her head over the top of mine, and I slowly crawl out of the bed, trying not to rustle the stiff blankets and sheets where she lays still, breathing in and out, still off in a land of dreams, all alone. Looking at the clock I realize it's quite late and go off out of the room, into the rest of the mansion.

This mansion sits upon a mountain in Athens, Greece, and from its view you can see across all of Athens, and out into the sea. The beauty of a sunset on the balconies of its rooms or an early sunrise from the national park can only be surpassed by the house's unique beauty and importance to me. I have been known to live in this house for days at a time, as my best friend from school, and his sister, the girl I was in bed with, both live here, and I live only a few blocks down the mountain. The mansion is the biggest house I have ever been in, and is constantly moving, with house staff living there all the time, guard dogs barking at strangers, and constant checks by local security guards and police.

As I walk out of her room, I proceed through a long hallway, where entertaining quotes from older siblings line the walls: I'm fat and you're ugly, but I can always lose weight; Alcohol is my anti-drug; DJ's are good, BJ's are better. At the end of the hall I come to a pro drum kit, which is setup at the top of the main staircase, where I usually play before I go to bed. The staircase is covered by a long red carpet, and its rails are gold plated. As I hit the bottom of the stairs my feet instantly freeze and I run to the kitchen to get away from the cold marble floor of the main hall. The kitchen sits just off this hall, and is the only place where functionality comes before beauty. The kitchen is very plain, and I am welcomed to the day by a number of house staff who have apparently been up for hours preparing a diner which Mrs. Filliotis, the mother, is planning. I say 'Hello' and start the day by making an omelet for myself, and then another for Dorothy. I am constantly asked if I need help, as the Filipino house staff is not used to anyone in the household doing anything themselves, and have a hard time understanding I like to make food in the morning, especially if its an excuse to wake them up.

I dash back through the hall with the plates of food in hand, and proceed back to Dorothy's room and slowly wake her up to give her the omelet. She slowly turns over to face me, and asks me what I'm doing up so early in the morning. I tell her that I made an omelet for her, and it's on the bureau. I move some candles and makeup from the cluttered bureau and set it down, kiss her softly and tell her that I will be downstairs. I leave the room with the door slightly ajar; hoping one of the dogs will knock it open and wake her up. I quickly walk to Kosta's room. Opening the door I hear the sounds of techno music blazing from Kosta's speakers. I walk in, and, as I suspected he lay there fast asleep with a girl from school with him. Two of his three computers are on, downloading mp3's at a mile a minute. Books lay clustered on his bookshelves among an array of phones, motors, candles, matches, and papers. His walls are mostly empty, leaving a dull grey color as the background for his very colorful life. There are tones of papers strewn about his desk, along with spare keyboards, mice, and other miscellaneous parts for computers. I look through his closets, which are carefully labeled so the Filipino knows where to put his clothes. I look for a t-shirt, and finally find one with the words 'Britney sucks, Christina swallows,' a present given to him for Christmas for the girl he is in bed with.

I walk back down the stairs to the bottom floor, after picking up a cup of coffee the Filipino father made. I enter a room with a sign 'Beware of Dog' posted on it, and say good morning to one of the housedogs named Pongo, and sit myself down in front of a DJ Studio. I sit looking at the gigantic list of CD's and LP's, until I decide what I feel like mixing. Settling down with a 'Dream On' LP mix by a famous French DJ, and 'Stupidisco' the new hit song in Europe. I work on the mix for around a half hour in the warm small room, where posters of complex number systems, which confuse the eye, keep me company until Dorothy comes down, and then we decide to go out to the city for the day.

This is just another day in Kosta's mansion.


Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.