The castle.
Ever since my early childhood, I’ve been aware about the difference the place you were born in makes, and how that will somehow determine your life. These differences between families, place, sex or skin colour has always sounded in my head and made me ask myself how everything would be if I were someplace else and how it would affect my whole life. Since I was a little girl, I’ve been aware of how lucky I am and how others would want to be in my shoes. This has led me to develop a certain empathy, sometimes exaggerated, about daily situations we encounter, some of them close and some others far. One of these situations we often see and is, at times, even seen as normal in many cities around the world, is that of people living on the street. Regular people just like you and me who, owing to given circumstances, end up sleeping on benches, metro stations or any random corner. It could happen to anyone… Those images of people having nowhere to go have echoed in my head everyday since I can remember everytime I go to bed.
The minute you get into your bed is when you can chill, consider your day over, take stock of your situation, remember things… This is when we drift off to sleep, feeling exposed and defenseless. However, some of us are roofless and others, who are lucky, sleep on our comfortable beds. We should all have the right to sleep on a warm and cozy bed, which smells of freshly baked bread, safe from the storm. Because we all feel the same and there shouldn’t be differences.
Since I was a little kid, I have thanked having a castle on my bed, not knowing if, in an uncertain future, my castle will always be this comfortable.
This is my tribute to all those people whose castles are made of cardboard, who dream at night when they feel defenseless, just like everybody else.
