Clara
There is something strange about packing, it is not just putting clothes in a suitcase. It's deciding, in a way… what part of yourself you're taking with you.
I'm in front of the closet, looking at my things. They are no longer in a makeshift suitcase, they no longer seem temporary.
Now they're here… organized, settled, lived in. In this house, my house.
The word still surprises me when I think about it... but it doesn't bother me anymore.
I run my hand over a blouse, then over a dress. I stop for a second, undecided. Not because I don't know what to bring... but because there's something else going around in my head. This trip.
Before... It would have been routine, something automatic. Now... It feels different.
Not because of work, because of what I leave here.
"Do you know
