In Virginia Woolf’s “A room of one’s own” she say’s “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write”, since moving to and living in London independently I have come to relate to this passage indefinitely. My bedroom is very much my inner sanctum, a place in which the outside world can not penetrate, and my true self can simple be. My room is not mealy a place in which I sleep (mainly because I hardly sleep) but it is a space of contemplation and reflection, and in all honesty is my studio. Practically all my work is made with in my room, especial my films. I think a persons room says a lot about them, from what is in their to the way in which the contents is arranged and ordered. My room is very much ordered and its content structured around aesthetic and function, I want to portray the image of calm and organised but I know this is mealy a way of trying to kid myself and convince myself that I am in control. My room were ever that may be weather it is at my fathers , mothers or grandparents house, I always seem to find and set up a space of my own with books, trinkets anything which exudes a feeling of home really. This I think has steamed from never really feeling at home, with both my patients being in the military we were constantly on the move from country to country never really stay in a place for longer that 6-12 months. I am so use to packing up and moving on, dismantling the content and resetting up my room, but now that I live independently and do not have to keep uprooting my possessions and ‘ home’. I find that at certain points in the month (every 2-3 months) I feel compelled to rearrange my living space as if I were moving again, I think it is just so instilled in me from a young age that I am just accepting of it now.