This is Dirk’s room, fashioned largely by his own hand.
At once you notice a broad, well-worn leather sofa, its tan surface softened by years of use. Many a visitor has discovered it doubles as a serviceable bed. To the right stretches a long desk, running the length of the front wall beneath the divided window. At its far end a computer monitor keeps watch, while other shelves hold the fine speakers and amplifier Dirk has recently acquired in pursuit of better sound.
On the opposite side of the sofa stands a self-made bookcase, filled with comics, beside which a sturdy workbench groans under the weight of tools. Over the bench, a small window looks out onto the alley.
Raised above the floor is a high sleeper, beneath which lies a small sink. Next to the sink sits a gas stove. You recall the tale of Dirk once attempting to dry his boots upon that stove, only to find their soles melted for his trouble.
It is from here that music often drifts upward: the insistent rhythms of drum and bass, clearly heard in the room above — and usually welcome.
To one side stands a door, leading into the hallway.