I have never been jealous of things and people as I am when it comes to spaces. I don’t know why, exactly. I guess it’s just the way it is or – maybe – the way I am. In my life I always had to share my spaces with someone else. Don’t misunderstand me: sharing my room with my brothers for the first eighteen years of my life has been amazing. I can’t imagine spending my childhood sleeping next to someone else than my brother or sister. Thank God they were there. I had always been afraid of monsters and the dark scared me to death. But it couldn’t be that bad, as long as they were there, I can still hear my myself shouting and crying the first time my brother spent the night outside, while he was on a school trip. It was horrible. And it took me years to get used to the feeling of sleeping alone. But the older you get, the more you start feeling the unbearable need to have a place that you can call yours and in which you can put all of yourself. The walls, posters, lights: e