Three things people assume about coliving: it's a hippie commune, people only do it because they can't afford to live alone, or it's a glorified hostel.
None of that has matched my experience.
I’m writing this week's letter from a French castle turned coliving in Normandy. A handpan playing in the hallway, a table for twenty in the dining room, a Brazilian pianist who properly played last night for an hour.
If you've never tried one and the idea pulls at you even a little, check it out. Not to commit. Just to see what it actually is.