I store the letters I asked them to send me with the promise to leave them unopened. Secret gardens that will remain preciously looked after. Some envelopes are light, others reveal the depth of their contents. Not knowing their handwriting, their secret gardens are probably in a mess.
Youth is an affliction like no other.
We all are eternally young and potentially old. Youth, no one really knows what it involves, but a resistance fighter can lurk in the iris of those branded as young.
Working with young people, I have often felt a sensation of swooping needles that everyday inflict micro-blemishes. The things we do not know are showcased, and rarely those we know. Our lack of ability is exposed, and rarely our skillset. Plenty of stereotypes about young people: rebellious, outraged, adrift, unconcerned... As if a teenage category existed as a standard type. Tyranny of an adult's eye towards what is or should be "to be young"?