Who says i’m too big to build cubbies?
Moving to Bunbury has got me thinking about houses, about how we construct that identity of the home. What it is that makes a building more than simply a shell in which we store all our stuff?
Every evening, I have been crawling through the small doorway of my washing-machine-box cubby and decorating the walls with lyrics from Björk that I am particularly obsessed with at the moment. The inside of this box is my cave.