Now that my days are longer, I find myself more often messing around in my room until late at night. I'm then busy giving my belongings a place to stay. As a student, you would say that you don't have a lot of possessions, yet over the years, four now, I've collected quite a lot. In my bedroom, you will find several artistic expressions and old interiors, made by or received from the most beloved people in my life.
Like an old cigar chair, or works of art made by my mother and taken over from my grandmother's house. Besides these, there also several smaller and larger souvenirs from far away travels, ranging from cushions to lamps.
These beloved interior expressions give, each in their own way, a grip, especially now that everything is online. Most of my housemates study at home every day, believing that they will be able to go to the university library again. One of them, Emma, concentrates on drawing and painting and watches Netflix series every evening in self-quarantine. After sundown, we all drink our tea, in silence, or pleasantly chatting, as if we have been away all day.
My housemates like my bedroom: "It's like a library, can I study here?" I'm often told. They study in the same room every day, rolling from their bed to their desk. Of course, that's different when you're not a student. Then people sit undisturbed working in a study or living room. Working in the living room is not an option for us. The 'common room' is for everyone, and it is the only place where we can go crazy and shake our legs. Not a study space, for sure.
What about me? I hold on to shifting, cleaning up, and tinkering with the interior. I move plants, furniture, and other objects from one corner of my bedroom to the other. I screw together a wooden pallet and lie outside in the alley, sunbathing.
I think my behaviour is strange because over the last four years I was never very attached to my beloved interior. Now every little corner in my 20 square metres feels more attractive to me.