It's only fun if you don't have to live there

I was taking a walk after lunch along the waterfront, when I came across this old tree house. It was tucked in the back of a junkyard, next to the studio I was working in.

Aside from it's deeply forboding appearance, it made me wonder what it would be like to have to sleep in a makeshift house, high up in the three.

Would the wind blow through at night, sending in the rain along every crack in every board? Is there a sense of safety, perched above the rest of the world? Is it possible to be comfortable, when your world is reduced to the few scraps you can pull together to shelter yourself from the cold?

As a kid, I always wanted a tree house. Now, seeing this, I have to think twice.