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Home — nine moves, four rooms, one home.

A wooden desk with a laptop, a monogrammed mug, a candle and a feather wall hanging.
Neké Akua in a tan fedora against a green tropical-leaf wallpaper.
Neké Akua reading Atomic Habits in bed against a headboard piled with mustard and cream pillows.

Nine moves taught me that a room doesn't come together in one weekend — it comes together in the eight small corrections you make after you've lived in it.

Alabama to Texas, with a stretch living abroad in between, taught me what makes a room feel like home. The rooms I’ve lived in and re-lived in — what I bought once, what I returned, and what finally made a rental feel like mine.

What Actually Made It Feel Like Mine

  • Nothing goes on a wall until I've lived with the blank space for a month.
  • One thing I paid for, in every room.
  • If I can't picture packing it for the next move, I don't buy it.
“Four rearrangements later, this is the one that stuck.”

Neké Akua · on home

Neké Akua in a mustard blazer with a charm pin, seated in a rattan chair with a green velvet couch behind her.
“I used to buy a candle every time I moved, like it would fix the room. It never did. Good light did.”

Neké Akua · on what helped

  • A wooden desk with a laptop, a monogrammed mug, a candle and a feather wall hanging.
  • Neké Akua laughing barefoot on her kitchen island in lavender tie-dye loungewear, holding a pink mug in a bright modern kitchen with walnut cabinets.
  • Neké Akua sitting on a shag rug against a tan leather sofa, framed by green palm-print wallpaper.
  • An apricot-colored curly-haired puppy stretched out on dark hardwood floors, looking up at the camera beside a white doorway.

Let’s Be Friends

Once a month I send the things that didn’t make it to the grid. The hotel I’d actually rebook, what I’m cooking on repeat, the one thing I bought and don’t regret.

No spam. Just what I’m loving each month.