Ann, 22
Feminist / Writer
Ukraine → Germany
Let me introduce to you a young passionate writer who believes in the power of words and discovers the world through writing and observing. A tender woman who decided to take her own path and let everyone flourish and recognize their own beauty.
Today we are going to discuss three topics that are always present in Ann’s life. The things every person has faced but feels ashamed to talk about it. Three phenomena that rule our world: the first one you should fight, the second one learn to live with and the third one take up.
FEAR - FAME - MEDITATION
Here we go.
FEAR
Do you believe that our fears define us?
Yes. It doesn’t usually lie on the surface but our fears can tell a lot about a person. I learned that from my psychologist. You can’t run or hide from your phobias, you must face them sooner or later. If you try to analyze or explain your behavior in certain situations, think of the fears that are behind this. Maybe they are responsible for acting like that.
What are you afraid of?
Getting old. I’m in love with my body and my beautiful tender skin, so I just can’t imagine all that wrinkles on my face and hands. I know to appreciate my inner beauty and I know it will only be flourishing throughout the time, but this nostalgic feeling of pure, spontaneous, rebellious youth is the thing I will definitely miss as elderly woman.
Your weirdest fear?
Dandelions. And balloons. Do not ask further why :)
The most unfair thing for you?
The need to fit in society. Be casual to be accepted. To be part of „normality“. The need to find a „real“ job, to be successful and understood. To be just a sample in a tube. To be common. But we have to remember: When you don’t fit in, that makes you special, not a freak.
FAME
What does fame mean to you?
Having power to impact other people and cause changes. A famous person can create a fresh movement, new fashion (even if unintentionally). Of course it is also about being loved and hated at the same time. Either you have a lot of fans or haters. Or both.
Your favorite famous person?
Kurt Cobain. And Selena Gomez.
Where do you see the best option to express yourself?
In writing. The greatest tragedy and the biggest fear can be re-lived, rethought and freed from while writing. Words do help. You can also see the writing process as a therapy session or a communion - you talk to yourself, you confess.
What reactions to your books do you expect from the public?
Fascination or hatred, that means implicit interest for what I do. And that’s cool. Any reaction is a sign I make art.
MEDITATION
Is meditation about relaxation?
Sure. No all-inclusive trip or spa massage can be that kind of relaxing as meditation is. It is not about taking a nap or just lying on the couch. Your body is controlled by your thoughts, your condition too.
What is it like to think about nothing?
Well, at first you find it challenging to think about nothing as the thoughts constantly arise in your head. For this case the best advice is to acknowledge them and let them go. Then do it again and again till you learn how to keep your head empty from thoughts but mindful at the same time. Then you enter the Universe, you enter your own place. You talk to the Universe, you get wiser. Your brain and the whole body are finally relaxed.
Your advice for those who want to take up meditating?
Do not stop trying and listen to your heart. I know it seems a little bit confusing at the beginning because it’s not that simple to have NO thoughts at all and concentrate. You won’t be able to enter this state of calmness for the first time. Don’t get irritated, stay relaxed and keep trying. Use your imagination, create your own world.
You’re only 22. What have you learned so far?
Money can make you happy for a while. Doing your stuff can make you happy for ever.
A poem in Spanish
Y nunca exigíamos tranquilidad
Porque nos asfixiábamos de la pasión
Que nos llenaba
Dime por qué eres mi obsesión
Te amo, linda, deja de ser mi debilidad
Y no vayas pidiéndome que borre todas las noches
Yo sé. Ya son las ocho.
Ya me voy.
The morning after we lost our virginity
She woke up and immediately felt the pain. It was hurting between her thighs. Dull and wet pain that seemed to have left a bloody mark on her underwear. The ceiling was too low to breathe well and the air was too stuffy. She could see the dust flying off the poorly made closet and landing onto her cheek. Her feet were freezing so she grabbed her side of the blanket to cover them and finally saw him. There he was - a teenage sun-kissed boy, with long legs and tender voice. A cup of melted ice cream left on the night table, towering over a ripped condom wrapping, reflected the sunbeam on his face so that she could see he was smiling in his sleep. Was it really that good? Was he worth it? She heard her mum downstairs cooking breakfast. If we could actually call peeling neighbor’s apples a breakfast. Let it be. We don’t mind boasting about our success without knowing what the heck the harmony of wholeness is. So her mother cooked and he woke up.
-Morning.
-Morning.
An awkward kiss on the lips that made them both blush.
-How are you? I mean down there. That thing.
-It hurts.
-Ow. I got it.
-You know my mother always says apples are healthy for breakfast.
-My dad had once planted an apple tree before he went to war and died.
-Oh, you’re lucky. We don’t have any trees.
-You can plant one though.
-Please be quiet. You know how to whisper? Otherwise, my mother will hear that we’re together in bed.
-Yeah, sure.
The bed was crunching and cracking - the only thing that survived during the war. Her tiny dress from a charity shop was left on the floor yesterday evening. It is wonderful how that girl learned to count to fifty as there were only three things in her room - and you already got acquainted with them - a closet, a night table, and a bed. Oh, and a window. Four. There were no wallpapers at all.
-You have a beautiful room.
-Oh, thanks.
-I think stars shine only at night.
-So do I.
-Yeah.
It was still hurting. She was wondering whether it was hurting him too. He seemed to have another object down there.
-What do you wanna do?
-Well, wash my face. Eat bacon.
-No, I mean what do you wanna do, in the future? Who do you wanna be, as a person?
-Dunno. Maybe a milkman.
-A milkman? Really?
-Yeah, why not. I mean milkmen are cool. And I love milk. And that shiny white uniform. And you?
-An actress.
-You know how to act?
-I’ll learn.
-Cool.
-When not, I know what to do. My uncle works at the post office. Maybe he’ll hire me someday.
-I love post offices.
For that time they didn’t know that but what happened between them last night was the most memorable thing in their lives. Nothing more but sorrow. And dull pain between the thighs.
-You know what time it is?
-Sorry, we don’t have a clock at home. You may go to the post office and ask my uncle.
-Oh, I understand. Really nice, thanks.
-I think we’re doomed to live these pitiful lives. There is nothing that could bring joy. We messed it all up.
-Maybe you’re right. Listen, I need to go now. Was a pleasure to meet you yesterday. And to do that thing, you know. I hope one day I’ll see you on the stage while delivering milk and I will say “Oh you see, you’re an actress!” And I hope you’ll have an apple tree in your garden.
-Goodbye, milkman.
He stood up, pulling on his trousers and turning away from her naked drafts of breasts in the bed. The next second he was already climbing down the window that barely breathed and the last thing she ever saw of him was his bright hair disappearing in the morning fog. She felt numbing despair and got herself ready for breakfast.
Who knows, maybe before she started smoking at the age of 14 and got lung cancer by 19 and died by 26, maybe before he took up working as a milkman by 17, married a girl from the bakery by 22 and was accidentally run over by a car by 40, maybe before they lost their virginity they had been happy for a single moment.
Photos by @goodbyechristie
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