I live in a huge, white-painted, crumbling Victorian edifice, which looms over the local area like a vast iceburg. Once the residence of rich industrialist (the original owner was a glass manufacturer who owned a factory in this town), it's long been broken up into flat/bedsits. I'm on the ground floor with my own separate kitchen and access to a yard. Everyone else has to cope with just the one room. So it goes.
Many people have come and gone over the years, but three residents have remained constant: yours truly, the handsomest Tall Guy in the world, Maria the attractive bike-owning goth-girl who lives upstairs, and Tivo Tim, the strange creature who lives across the hall from me.
I sometimes fancy we live in a gothic novel.
Here's a pic, looking upwards from the yard (where Maria parks her two bikes).