This is il manifesto.
Counting the days until you get back there. Or you don’t. Never will.

Skogskyrkogården. Two days after halloween. Empty. Serene. Half burnt candles that will last for another day or two, you have your back against the film stars grave and slowly start to walk. One step at a time. The night engulfs you into oblivion.

At the party. You know some of the guests, at least that’s how you perceive the situation. But you’re probably wrong. There’s this image of you as a human being at this occasion. This notion that there’s actually matter, atoms, DNA, cells, fibers, tissue, skin, standing there in front of someone, talking about the latest release from Kanye. Of course that’s not reality. Reality is there is a conciseness somewhere above the clouds. up. there. Talking to themselves about something completely different. Who will ever know about what?

Counting the days until you get back there. And you do.

On a boat. You’re on a boat motherfucker. Leaving Vinterhamn for some reason you barely remember at this moment. Because. At this very moment, you are you, and none else. You suddenly remember that, although it’s all just a dream, now you’re in control. You can end it. Let it linger. Let Go. Continue. You decide on one of the former. You know it is for the best.

This is il manifesto. To the city. A place to inhabit, a place to escape, a place where you don’t belong but you do. If that would even make sense to you. Of course it couldn’t. You could never understand what we have. Had. Will Have. You can have it for what it is, use it as you like and however you want. That’s it. For now:

this city are belong to us

Credits:

Words by Gwyneth

Photos by Too Young, all rights reserved