I put my music on

I wasn't going to let them in anymore, through the layers of my atmosphere. Earlier they had sucked the life out of me, giving me nothing in return. I tried to reveal to the world, the little earthquakes inside of me, but no one was interested. I couldn't trust anyone anymore either.
It felt natural as anything else, to just stop smiling, laughing, talking, reacting and involving myself in other people's sentences. I put my music on and found myself in the lyrics. They understood me. They had been there before.

E.Y.

  

Diamond rings

There are diamond rings at the bottom of the ocean, unable to explain themselves. They carry a burden of happiness and sadness, admiration and resentfulness, pride and shame.

Several stories have ended the same way; thrown and vanished into the absorbing sand so quickly, that even the doubtful has needed to stand by his decision.

E.Y

The Northern Lights

"How can you sleep when it's so light outside?" She was looking out of the window as if examining something on close hold.
"Don't worry", he replies. "If you're tired enough, you will. This is Norway, you will get used to the summers, and when the time comes, the winters."

"I am tired", she says. "But I'm worried too. Those are my friends out there, my future, my dreams, my holidays. I need to do more than just lift a finger."

Unaffected by her sulkiness, he places a cigarette on his lips and starts searching his pockets for matches. Why didn't he ever keep them at the same place? His pockets are empty, so he moves towards the gas oven and bends his head for spark.
He looks at her, over his shoulder , while exhaling. Women, he thinks. Always so dramatic.

He goes back and sits next to her. He puts his free arm around her shoulder and exhales the smoke towards the other direction.

"They will arise, you know. Underneath all the smoke and tear gasses, lies a newly redeemed nation."

E.Y

Closure

I'm hurting, inside out

The wound doesn't heal. 

There was no closure, the untangled truth could have saved me from banging my head on walls, the sudden outbursts once the doors were closed. 

Madness takes over when I pick up the phone, hoping you won't answer. I watch after each dial tone, the sky turns a shade darker. 

E.Y

Punk Stories from the 80's

Punks; growing up in the 80's I was intimidated by them. They were mysterious, edgy, outstandingly creative when it came to style. Their spiky hair and the spikes on the jackets were almost like a shield against us and the reactions of people whom simply didn't understand them. 

Pictures by Marianne C. Brantsæter

Pictures taken of Punk youth in Oslo between 1980-1982. Photographer Marianne C. Brantsæter.

Little Earthquakes

And then he was gone. Thin air.
It took only a couple of minutes from Hello to Goodbye while my facial expression failed to follow.
I didn't weep that night, but I drank myself to sleep.
Nobody needed to know the little earthquakes in my head. I possessed no secret worth an ear drop.

E.Y