I’m 22. It’s the summer of 2012.
I am sweaty and somehow happy with myself.
I look in the mirror or browse through old photographs and I don’t want to turn away from them.
Actually I never really had this impulse.
I would never miss a mirror while walking on the streets, I would desperately chase my reflection.
I was always afraid of losing myself and a reflection in the mirror could make me feel safe, like returning home.
I never wore this skirt before.
I was listening to Erik Sumo’s album two summers ago. My hair was red, my dreams were darker and I was taking trains to run from a version of me who just wouldn’t come off. Listening to these songs, letting my hair grow again, showing my long white skinny legs to the world, putting them on heels – that’s my way of showing the world that I’m not afraid anymore.
I have won back my body, the same one which made thriteen year old boys laugh , the same one which made old women stare in disapproval.
I am able to comfortably wear it because I always knew that beauty cannot attach itself to skinniness or curveness, to whiteness or blackness, to tallness or shortness, to blue eyes or blonde hair, to green eyes or red hair…
Beauty attaches itself to you once you stop chasing hollow images of it.
And I now walk beside someone who can find beauty beyond all of the shells in this shallow world.
Listen to Erik Sumo’s album My Rocky Mountain.
Maria, I will miss you.
pictures made by dad