Almost thirty years ago, my older sister Cecilia tried to take her own life in a psychiatric clinic. She was twenty-three years old and had been fighting mental illness and eating disorders for a long time. Four days later she died in intensive care. This was the second death in the family. Three years earlier, our father had taken his own life in the same way.
In the tumultuous time that followed her death, my mother and I went through her belongings. Almost nothing had been saved, apart from a few things that could fit in a cardboard box. The box with her belongings has remained untouched ever since. For the work on this book I have opened it again.
