I grew up inside that building. It was my home in my home town. I can't call it a house though, because it isn't a house, the garages underneath are for other dwellings, for other dwellers' use. So it's not independent like a house, not self-contained. Yet it's not an apartment, because it's by itself, there aren't any other apartments with it. It sits in the middle of a block, down a driveway past what was when I lived there the landlord's house, looking down on the neighbors' yards, their backyards, what are usually, in small towns, private spaces. You could see the park out the kitchen window, to the east. There were big trees in back that filled the windows and there was the driveway in front so you could see a car coming home. At the top of the stairs, which were steep, was the kitchen door, straight ahead. To the right at the landing at the top of the stairs was a window that also looked out on the park, like the kitchen window did. To the left was the living room door, the front door. The kitchen door had a sliding window in it and a screen on that. There was only a king-post between the two doors.
So, on the landing there were four perspectives, one behind you and one in front and two at either side, four differing lines, and the front door and the kitchen door were right next to each other, at right angles. And that was my home.