The living room is where everyone expects the cave fantasy to become uncomfortable. Surely it would be cold. Surely it would echo. Surely there would be some strange smell of stone and moisture. Instead, it feels like stepping into the coziest room in the world.
Marta has placed a deep cream-colored sofa against one curved wall, with soft cushions stacked messily at the corners. A thick rug covers the floor, and a low wooden table sits in the center, usually carrying a teapot, a half-finished crossword, and a plate of biscuits she insists are “for guests.” The ceiling dips low near the back, making the room feel protected rather than cramped. Warm lamps bounce light against the stone, turning the cave walls gold in the evenings. During winter, Marta lights a small stove built into a stone alcove, and the whole room glows like a lantern.