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icon : violetbirdy
Friday, December 09, 2011 @ 11:38 am | comment (0)
I guess that living in a sharehouse is not really "home". It doesn't really ring, for me. It's a space where the only bit that's your own is your room, and the rest is full of everyone elses' presence. You don't buy the stuff you want for fear that housemates won't appreciate/will completely destroy it (I fear for my Anolon pan). It is synonamous with "temporal". It isn't a place that you want to reinvent so that you can be proud of it.
So the prospect of home makes me happy and all I want to do is fill it with clocks and tea-towels and cat.