During my childhood my family and I moved often. 

There was a ritual I learned to resist. I would open drawers, repack small things I had not used since unpacking, then carry them to the next address for the process to be repeated. It was a feeling that made me feel weighed down, inefficient and burdened. 

Inadvertently each move taught me two important lessons, firstly to travel lighter and be conscious about what you acquire, secondly to learn to let go and not fear the act. Of course, learning this as a child when debating comic books or toys is easier than decisions on furniture or art - but the discipline was ingrained.

After completing my architectural studies in 2007 I backpacked around the world for nine months. I still clearly recall meeting a traveller somewhere in Croatia - he was travelling for a few weeks carrying only a small rucksack and a neat box that held a phone, a camera and a few essentials. My own pack, already bulging, felt excessive by comparison. That freedom and lightness he demonstrated have guided me for two decades, whether on the road or at home.

I was tested a year ago. My mother handed me 3 boxes she had been holding since I moved out and no longer wanted to be responsible for them. They contained all kinds of paper work and knickknacks, my report card, invitations, newspapers from the day I was born, and a favourite teddy. As I sifted through the boxes examining each object I asked - If I kept these relics, who were they for and what would they serve? I let them all go. Reflecting back a year later I feel light and liberated. You don't have to be tied to things, nor cluttered by them.

Yes your home is a container for your life - but what do you want it to contain? The spaces we form and curate around us are more than their contents, often it’s the absence that makes way for the freedom we are hoping to possess.