I am the house. My house is my reflection. I take everything I find to my house and put it there. I move things from place to place, give them away, move them again, organize them.
I collect food, spices, tea in my house. I accumulate and store them. I accumulate things and stocks. I build them up around my trauma, like a wide and elastic protective layer. With a lot of things and food I cover the emptiness inside. Otherwise, that emptiness will deafen me with its silence. I would fall in and not be able to find a way out. I will drown there and everyone will forget about me forever.