Room Tour
An ode to the room that made me.
I’m sitting at the desk in my childhood bedroom. I must admit, a lot has changed in my little sacred space. The door once bare, now adorned with flowers and reimagined galaxies I painted on it during covid in 2020. My light-switch cover now whimsical with homemade turquoise and glow-in-the-dark clouds painted on. The once hot-pink walls now a more mature purple.
I traded in the classic children’s bunkbed for a “snazzy” trundle— books of all kinds now rest above my headboard. A turquoise creative Bible I got for my 21st birthday now matching the whimsical light-switch, and right next to it my journals, and a magical novel about faeries and faerie politics. Along with these gems, a borrowed copy of Capitalism and the Rule of Law, that’s due to soon return to my uncles’ library.
My once hot-pink Barbie comforter is now replaced with a floral blue one I chose when I lived away from home during my university years— a time I will always hold near and dear, a time I learned so much about myself and the world around me.
Black Sony headphones fit for any music enthusiast, rest right at the edge of my headboard (not really meant for decorative purposes, but I guess they do look kind of cute there). On the other end of my headboard a polaroid camera, and right next to it an essential oil diffuser I actually use as a nightlight. For reasons unknown, I never grew out of my dislike for the dark like I grew out of my love for hot-pink everything.
Between my makeshift nightlight and books about politics—faerie and otherwise, stands a Hinata figurine. I think it was at 19 when I was reintroduced to anime and fell in love with it all over again. While in primary school, I never missed an episode of Dragon Ball Z. Reintroduced to anime via Naruto Shippuden (all 500 episodes of it), I chose Sakura as my favourite character and found more and more anime to get me through the pandemic.
Today I can’t stop fidgeting with the callouses forming on my fingertips thanks to a recently acquired classical guitar that rests at the foot of my bed. Close to it, my desk with all my stationery needs divided between a light pink unicorn stationery holder I got at the start of my uni-years; and a metallic one I got at the end of those days in my current favourite colour, green.
I’m sitting at the desk in my childhood bedroom. No longer seven, nor fourteen or even twenty-one, but a rather dashing, more knowledgeable twenty-five. On most days I sit at my desk either writing poetry or vigorously applying for jobs and upskilling.
My childhood bedroom— where I stayed up on way too many school nights reading werewolf books on Wattpad at fourteen. The very same room where I used to practice writing my name on my wardrobe shelves when I was in crèche . The room where I learned to paint and do my makeup at twenty. One of the few places I’ve always felt safe in. The place where I’ve always felt free to be my truest self— brave, an explorer, curious, and sometimes even an artist.
My safe space, where all kinds of metamorphosis has taken and continues to take place.
The following poem was written earlier this year in March ‘25. Titled Tuiskoms pt.3, its part of an imperfect, most-of-the-time messy homecoming and metamorphosis.
Room Tour: The playlist
The sonic reflection of this piece.
Just a kid :/
My visual reflection of this piece.
