IF YOU had told me five years ago that I would have a bedroom decorated with items from various charity shops from across England, and dress in a stranger's clothes, I would think you were mad. Now however, as I'm writing this, I sit in a palace, a metropolis of charity shop dreams. Walking in my room the first thing you would notice would be the leaning tower of VHS tapes and abundance of clothes littering the floor. What other people might call junk is to me treasure, charitable treasure.My...
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