This is where our last (and favorite) apartment used to be. They kicked us out because they said they were going to tear it down and then, 8 months later, they made good on that promise.
I have never had a home stop existing before. Every house and apartment I have ever had still stands, to this day. And there is a comfort to that - to the memories continuing to exist in the walls and the strange spots on the floor.
Even though we only lived here for a year - it was just as important as any other year. We spent summer nights on the porch becoming even better friends with some of the best people we know, we cried about scary accidents and lost grandmothers, we cooked old meals and discovered new favorites. We lamented the ugliest effing clock abandoned on the wall by the owners. We laughed over and then embraced the brightest blue bathroom in the world.
I ride by this place every day on the train on the way to work and at one point the only piece of our old apartment you could see was that bright blue wall, exposed for the whole world. A piece of our history for everyone.