I shout "Good morning!" to the guys at the hardware store and stomp confidently into the main aisle. I'm wearing an XXL hoodie stained with yellow paint, jogging pants with pink speckles and a crazy cap for children by Bob the Builder on my head. Since the beginning of January I have been working on the renovation and beautification of my Tiny Home. All by myself. Because I can. A report about fails, sweat and pure joy.
I'm trudging down the gravel road to my new house. It's a few days before Christmas and I just signed all the contracts. My Tiny House. I could grow tomatoes. Or salad. Or uranium. I want to throw with paint, hang up two million pictures and put on a paper hat. But before that happens, I have a chaffinch on the fridge and a hard laughing fit. Read about my first steps as a Tiny Home owner.
It's January 1, 2018. I don't have a job, nothing works out and I feel like shit. Today is December 31, 2018. I have my own company, I have traveled for 11 weeks, broke up with my long-standing relationship, I have moved, I have found my soulmate. And only a few days before Christmas I bought a tiny home, into which I will move in early 2019. My euphoria-level is close to LSD. Who could have know that!?
It's a quarter to three in the middle of the night when my phone rings. My friend from the United States arrives at Charles
de Gaulle Airport at 7 and I will surprise him there. I made a crazy poster and planned to take the metro to the main station and then the train to the airport at about 5. Did not work
The result was a 2-mile-walk through Paris at night - with encounters of the third kind.
In 2017 I fulfilled my life's dream and travelled solo across the US for four months. From New York to Chicago, down the entire Route 66, through several national parks. Los Angeles, San Francisco and finally across the wild North back to the East Coast. I laughed, danced, cried and saw the craziest and most beautiful things. Here comes my little diary.
Indigo and her dog Zelda are living full time in a truck they converted into a camper. “Altogether we’ve been living this lifestyle for a couple of years now, and I stand firm in the belief that it’s the best decision that I’ve ever made.” She did not need to say it out loud. Seeing her sparkling eyes would have been enough. But it was a long and hard way to go.
Somewhere between the clouds and the falling streams I knew it: When I come back, my life will break apart. Implode. For eight years I was with my boyfriend. And then you realize that your dream isn't the dream of someone else. And that you only have two options: to lie to yourself and stay, or to follow your inner call and go. A month ago, I took all my courage and left.
If there was a fire burning in my house now, all I would have to do was take my notebook, my camera, and a box full of personal letters
and souvenirs - and I would have saved 90 percent of all things that matter to me.
This is an anthem to Nothing. And how “Nothing” allows me to do everything I always wanted to do.