I moved into my room when I was 4 years old. Yesterday I sat on by bed staring at all those dusty objects and memories I am going to leave and it felt so incredibly – and horribly – real: I actually found a job and, this time, I might not come back. Farewell to you. Farewell to a little light-haired me living in a parallel universe and dreaming about Harry Potter, magic and fairy dust. It’s been a pleasure, for real.