Design itself is content. This is a project for Design Writing at Pratt Institute.
Designing the form according to the content - the place. The piece of writing is about my tiny bedroom in my apartment. It is also the reason why the booklet is a mini-size booklet.
I used folded booklet as a medium, delivering a message " do not judge a book by its cover". I tried to guide readers to know how I get to love the place I used to not like it by leading them open the book step by step. With folding, the blank paper became fulfilled.
It is how design works.
Hope you enjoy it and like it!
I was wakened up by the bright light. Sunlight just came through the skylight, came into my eyes. I sat up and looked around. I saw the green wall behind my desk is full of the photos, postcards and various tickets. I moved my sight from the wall to the small square, the skylight.
Oh! It is the box where I keep my everyday life in.
seven months ago, I stood in front of the small white door, with disappointment and tiredness. I cannot even describe how upset I was to see the shabby door in the dirty grey wall after a 30-minute walk in the summer. How could it exist in such a place located in downtown Jersey City, where is known as a garden state. “What the hell is this apartment!” I complained without speaking it out. The huge mottled metal black garage door took over the grey wall. The black door fit itself in the little-spared space. I felt it so awkward for the tiny door. Just like me, forced myself into a space where does not belong to me at all. I was staring at the glass embed in the door when the broker was trying to open the lock. I felt so sick about the place. The appearance of the building, the door that looked just like the door of my bathroom home. Walking through the hallway and upstairs to the apartment. The hallway was so narrow. Two people only could access it one by one.
 “I don’t want to rent this apartment.” I almost blurted but thankfully I did not. I could not find a word but incredibly amazed to picture the moment I saw the inside of the apartment. I stepped on the light-oak wood floor, with surf green wall painting around me. Sunshine pass through the skylights above me. Windows were set in a row along one wall. The contract formed by the purposely exposed pipes. It was the ideal artist loft, exactly where I wanted in my mind.
The space started to be filled with furniture.  Each furniture took over different space just like settlers dominated their territories. They shared the space with me. Later on, the belongings shared their spaces as well. As the earth is one part of the universe, the country is one part of the earth. And so on, we, human share the space as a part of all these spaces. As far as I am concerned, we were born to be a container. We kept taking things in and throwing useless ones out. We would eventually disappear but those connections between spaces outside us and us could always leave some clues. It made me feel I was like the toy, being packed into this box, maybe left here for a while and then being sent to somewhere else. I shared the box with those furniture and personal belongings and the proofs of my life.
I looked at the wall as if I could saw how it accumulated those stuck things day by day.  The space suddenly became emotional. The objective objects got to be subjective because they were sharing my memories of my life. It is not only just the box contained the pieces of stuff but also became the proof of my living. They got alive although they stayed still yet.
I got up, walking towards the closet. The closet is a bonus to me because it is an extra space hidden in the space as well as I kept many handmade knitting sweaters by my mother in it. Closet used to be the safe spot when we were playing hide and seek when we were young. It prevented me from the exposed place. I sat inside every time I felt homesick, hiding and covering myself with the clothes hanging in it. I could smell the smell of home from the luggage I carried all the way from China and the handmade sweaters.
I stood up, picked up what I was about to wear. I put them on and walked towards outside. I closed the door, walking into a larger box. 

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