I thought I could show something from my apartment. Today when I cleaned it, the sun shone in again, and it gave me the courage to show you where I live.
This isn't something I can call home, so I just call it the flat where I live; I am still waiting for the day I'll find a place called home.
There everything is such a mess. Nothing really has it own place. This is uncontrollable chaos. I have too much stuff and I'm not able to give any stuff away. My apartment is just too small for all the stuff I have. It's my biggest problem.
The farm picture is on loan from my friend and the another one is a graduation card from her.
I have an obsession to collect weird stuff. Like tiny violins.
This is a music box from France.
A house is not a home without a dog.
Almost everything I own is second hand or given by family, friends, neighbors... I love to restore and renovate furniture. I've made, painted or fixed almost every piece of furniture I have. (My dad made that TV table for me.)
I think the home is where your (or your friends, neighbors, cousins etc.) dog is.
