May 22, 2019:
Documenting my bedroom.
That makes sense. In childhood that's the closest thing to a space of one's own, where the objects and the walls and their arrangement are somewhat under one's personal control. So that it mirrors your identity: These are the things that speak to who I am.
Today I don't do that so much. It's just a big room with plants, strewn clothes, and a big empty bed. The things that speak to who I am are elsewhere, distributed throughout a house that's far-too-large for just one person. Where the empty bed mirrors not so much my identity as my mistakes.