I lived many years in this house, always trying to find my place.
But only reduced to a small space where I can be myself.
This space hide my secrets, my interests, my hobbies, my treasures and even my shame.
In other places I can be me, but not mine, are shared and not as much as I know my place.
In those spaces I have no privacy, even in my country I have.
But I can sit there to think, to mourn, laugh out loud for no reason, no one tittle me crazy.
it is my little bubble and if I have to share is my place in this house where I lived so many years longing for a place to be myself.
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