WHO: Lina Söderström + Too Young

WHAT: Poetry

WHERE: Stockholm

You’re thirteen years old. Walking out of the cinema, glowing behind is the rolling credits for Star Wars: Episode 1 – The Phantom Menace. Outside bright lights, dazzling. Underground. Right in front, on the subway floor, a wrinkled Snickers bar wrapper. You close your eyes. Raise your hand. It moves. Eyes open.

Almost finishes the breakfast cereals. All chocolate. You pick up mom’s Sony Handycam and start. First scene: Death of the dinosaurs. Second scene: Biker mice from mars on earth, love story. Third scene: Dad in robe. Silence. Laugh. Cut. Final scene: Neighbour girl as Leia. You wish you could kiss. But smiling together is fine. Cut.

It’s a wrap. A masterpiece.

No one will ever watch.

Seventeen. The pen leaves the paper of your latest poem. You just finished writing the missing piece, the title:

Black Book, Bed Book

Next to the pen on the table lies Harmonium. You glance over at it, and smile. As your eyes pass back to your own piece of art, contemplating over every word one last time. A sense of great proud washes over you. Your heart is full. In your mouth is an apple.

Folding the A4 into an A5. The words slip into an envelope, onto which you write the adress:

No one will ever read it.

Credits:

Words by Gwyneth at Too Young

Photography by Lina Söderström.