Some interesting passages in an old post (2009) about a Manhattan couple, the Prokops, who live (or lived) in an apartment with "less than 175 square feet."

One...

[Zaarath Prokop] added that because they save money on their home, they can spend money in “areas that make our lives better,” like restaurants and vacations. The two just got back from Beijing and have been to Japan and other countries.

Two...

“We get to really experience life and enjoy ourselves,” she said. “We eat out all the time.”

Three...

[Zaarath and Christopher Prokop] are not fully living; instead, they’re using their micro-home to sleep and to base themselves.Their lives are lived in the larger city, not in their tiny space.

And four...

Micro-housing is always associated with such lively urban environments, where the home exists primarily to be a base from which to sally forth every morning, and to return mainly for sleeping at night.

What's wonderful about micro-living, and why we should all see it as the ideal way to live in the city, is more and more of what is private is turned over to the public. Most of us are bad cooks. A city has lots of great cooks. It's therefore rational to let the great cooks do all of the cooking and we eat their good food with the rest of the city, with others, with strangers. You need some trees or a garden? Go to the park. You want to burn some fat, go to a public pool.

Micro-living, however, will not become a reality or possibility without a revolution in the structure of feeling. We need to learn how to feel disgust at all of this empty and useless space that's around us—see it as even harmful. The new feeling: The less private space you have means the more human you are.