The last time I wrote a book review of Fahrenheit 451, I highlighted a conversation about front porches. In the book, it was said that architects got rid of porches because they didn’t want people sitting around doing nothing, talking too much, or spending time thinking.

That paragraph l has stayed with me since it has resonated with what’s on my mind for the past few years. In today’s society, it feels almost prophetic: not only do many of us rarely find time to think or reflect on how we want to live, but we also miss out on the spaces that encourage connection and quiet reflection. Public places like parks aren’t always easy to access, and private ones—like porches, gardens, or balconies—are a privilege not everyone has.

When I recently moved into a new apartment, I knew I wanted two things: a dedicated space for reading and another corner for simply existing by sitting with a cup of coffee, watching the world go by, and doing absolutely nothing. I’ve already shared about my little reading nook in a previous post, so this time I’d like to write about my “doing nothing” space: the balcony.

I think the first time I ever wished for a balcony was when I started becoming a coffee enjoyer. Back then, cafés were my escape. I loved sitting by the window, sipping coffee, watching people, and letting my mind wander. I wanted to recreate that same feeling at home. A balcony with a glazed window seemed like the perfect setup. It creates a boundary between me and the outside world, giving me a sense of privacy while still letting me be part of the city’s rhythms. And in a place like the Nordics, the glazing also serves a practical purpose: it shields me (a little bit) from the biting winter while still letting me enjoy the view.

When I was apartment hunting, I wasn’t too strict about having a balcony, but I’m so glad I got one anyway. Mine comes with a glazed window, and to make it even better, the tram line passes right in front of the building. If I keep the balcony door closed, the apartment is quiet. No noise pollution from trams or pedestrians (and to be fair, Helsinki trams are not that noisy compared to some countries). But if I want to embrace the city’s hum, I can simply open the door and let the sounds in.

After living here for a few weeks, I’ve realized how much this little balcony adds to my daily life. It’s a place where I can think, observe people heading to work or school, and feel connected to the flow of the city without actually being in the middle of it.

As a self-claimed introvert, I don’t always enjoy being around people but I do enjoy being near people. That’s why cafés have always recharged me: I can sit alone, surrounded by others, without the obligation of conversation. In some ways, I’m like a dog who needs to step outside at least once a day. A little air, a little change of scenery, and suddenly I feel refreshed and more productive. My balcony gives me that same feeling, but without leaving home. It’s my private little café corner, my porch, my heaven, right outside my apartment door.

Notes: For the sake of my privacy, I do not use a picture of my balcony as the featured image. Instead, I use a picture of what I enjoyed while sitting on the balcony: coffee and waffles.