stories about people i’ll never know, 1.

Photobooth: Anonymous Young Woman With A Great Smile And A Daisy Corsage

ho syklar så fort ho kan, kjenner korleis leggane kjempar for å halda tritt med overmotet i hovudet. i korga klirrar fire flasker; to bringebærsaft, to vatn, saman med eit brød i ein papirpose. lufta fyk forbi tinningane, kitlar når den sklir forbi dei små krøllene over øyra. langt der framme kan ein såvidt sjå det brunruta teppet ligga klart i graset, eit par raudbrune sko står fint parkert ved kanten.

translation:
she rides her bike as fast as she can, her shins fight to keep up with her mind. in the basket four bottles carefully bash against eachother: two cordial, two water, and a loaf of bread in a paper bag. the air swooshes past her temples, tickles the tiny curls above her ears. all the way over there she can see the brown plaid rug laid out in the grass, a pair of red brown shoes nicely parked by the edge.

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