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  • When I left my parent's house, in 2009, I dreamed about white furniture. All the apartment in white, colored with nice objects, like vases and flowers, books and frames of my favourite movies on the walls. It was a hot february, and my birthday was coming in a few weeks. I didn't have much money, so I started with my bedroom. White retangular, japanese like bed, white wardrobe with sliding doors, two bamboo mats on the floor. I didn't have much money, so I stopped there and started again one year later.

    Dove into a white kind of material den made of wood and cotton, I knew I wanted to swallow the thick air I breathe each time my own self wished for a spirit. I'm born without a spirit, so I came into life as the white ghost of my real being.

    Dramatic and incongruous, I wasn't aware of my bipolar disorder condition. I dived into many colored feelings of distress and felt ill-placed. The peace of white thoughts lied into my bedroom. For months, I wished I could never leave my bedroom.

    One day, than another, and then after another, I started staying at bed.
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