Once upon a time there was a girl who had 7 invisible horses. People thought she was crazy and that she in fact had 7 imaginary horses, but this was not the case. When autumn came the girl spent a whole day washing all her clothes. She hung them on a string in her garden to let the gentle autumn sun dry them. Out of nowhere, a terrible storm came and its fiercefull winds grabbed a hold of all her clothes and all seven horses (authors note: since they are invisible they obviously didn’t weigh much). The girl was devestated and spent all autumn looking for each horse spread around the country, wrapped in her clothes.
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I take a deep steadying breath, and prepare myself for the year to come. I´ve stocked up my cupboards with food, hopefully it will last me to Easter, or even better all the way until June. My new timetable is up on the wall, one day already ticked of. One day closer to the Easter holidays when I can go home again. Be with my friends, my family and my man. My heart longs for snow, but here its almost spring. I can wear my plimsolls and autumn jacket.
I dance around my little kingdom, my tiny studio, and try to make it my own again. Carefully placing the treasures brought with me from home. Oh how I miss having my own things around me. To have a livingroom with my sofa and two chairs in it. I brought with me two new books. How can you live without books? My green teapot, a yellow kitchen bowl, my white bunny piggy bank, some colorful fabrics and a crocheted tablecloth. I`ve made a new table out of my suitcase and green fabric. My new green notebook lie awaiting for the recipies I`m going to fill it with. I am preparing for long days and little sleep. For immense workload. For presentations. For going hungry. For being skint. For being alone. For small breakdowns. For wanting to quit. For wanting to succeed. For my first trip to New York. My first trip ever outside Europe. For diving straight from my second year as a fashion student into an unknown internship, and then sthraight into the third year. I am ready.
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2011 was a year of loneliness. Of moments with beautiful people. The changing and maturing of friendships. A year of contrast and a year for a collective loss of innocence.
I can`t remember how many times I waved goodbye at train stations. Tears running silently down my freckled face. How many goodbye kisses. Hands not willing to let go. How many nights alone, frozen, unable to do anything but lay on my bed, sad lyrics from the stereo pouring over me. Days of rebellion. Head full of dreams and grand plans for the future. Always burning, always, always, always. The albums I listened to, the heaps of individual songs, creating a soundtrack to everything going on, real and imaginitive.
Hours spent in the studio. Working. Stressing. Thriving. Laughing at silly songs. Feeling the fabric underneath your fingers. Heart pounding nervously at crits. Constantly forcing myself, and being forced to face my fears. Take on my shyness and social awkwardness. The reactions afterwards. The waking up from a long, slow slumber. To genuinly feel happy again. After two years of ghostfeelings. Two years of not being able to feel anything like I once used to. Just remembering the feeling, and how I was supposed to react to it. Slowly resurfacing, a bit more like how I used to be, but still different. A spring spent running around taking photos. Living by the ten golden rules of lomography. Working on a project inspired by lomography, razzle dazzle camouflage and film noir spy movies. I got glitter on my shoes, went on my first photoshoot, and climbed the ever green trees of Cornwall.
I went to my first wedding in June. And for two glorious months this summer, Lars and me lived together in our tower. My grandmothers apartment. A place thats been in our family for 90 years, and soon to be be gone forever. Taken over by some stranger. Our magical, forlorn tower. How I wish some miracle would happen so we could buy it. Care for it forever. Leaving that place was like betraying a friend. How wondeful and strange this summer was. Working for four solid weeks. Eternitys spent at the dentist. Deciding to become a vegeterian. Walking under a starry sky, in the pitch black park. Sharing an Ipod. Saying this would be the perfect moment to propose. Circus tents in the night. Catching up with my best girls. A two week depression, unable to get up from the couch. And of course, the day none of us will forget. A bomb, and a stone cold killer. Transfixed in front of the television. Unbelieving. How quiet the city was. Crying. Roses. Candlelights. A people united.
How life went on. Relentlessly. Painfully. Without them. Carrying them with us. The list of names. The pictures. The sound of those left behind crying. We who sat safe in our homes, watching it unfold on national television. A scar still unhealed.
Fall was marked by hunger. Walking around like a Hamsun character. Hungry. Alone. Angry. Music flowing through my body. Working relentlessy, wanting to succeed. To progress. To feel I finally stepped out of my head and out into the world. Fall was marked by Loneliness. Weekends alone. Not having the money to pay for a train ticket to London, my heart. So I embraced the hunger. Embraced the loneliness like old friends. Knowing it will be better in the end. Fall was marked by the feeling like I`ve earned my place at the fashion course. Weeks full of printing, drawing, sewing, designing, knitting and good friends. Loosing our tuxedo cat, 21 years after he walked into our lifes as a loveable stray. Our beautiful old gentleman.
Finally coming home at the end of the year. Seeing friends new apartments. Drinking tea and talking. A fine christmas dinner with three fine girls. Christmas day with the family. Worrying about my grandmother. A new years eve alone with Lars. Not being able to hold back my tears at the stroke of midnight. Because of the paper lanterns. Fiery souls on their way into the night sky. Symbolising all the beautiful human beings no longer with us. Forever not to get past July 22 2011.