i want to run with my limbs outstretched.
i want to go back i want again to go roof-tanning with you and smoke and laugh at the tedium of people locked in their daily skins and sometimes spit on them when we’re high but hush that’s a secret. i want to crash autumn yes of course i love its colours but that’s the season when you always leave and then i’m no longer in your arms which used to spin me like a whip, bright and gleaming, and we used to fight like stray cats in this godless air and it was better than love not because it was violent but because of how agile we felt should i open the window again and tip-toe on the tiles ? alone it’s not the same and it’s so cold outside that i’m wrapped up in heavy sheets in foetal position, which is like recovery, and it hardly augurs well. watercolours on my skin, i’m counting bruises as so many memories and i wonder: how blue is your morning? i shut my eyes and the whole world drops dead. i repeat to myself: i am important to her. i’ll light up candles to avoid the sky dripping dreams. i’m gonna grow up inside your woollen cardigan.
and i long for these days when every move could have caused us brain damage.
text: Pauline Dubois Dahl
photographer helena påls
stylist matilda sandström
hair style martina rimsbo
make-up metha gonthier
light designer younès othman
models filippa, isabella & rasmus