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Stockholm

 A polity of flowers. A foundation of fantasies that idealizes my footsteps upon my arrival at the Arlanda Airport. Taco Bell, letting the tray of fika and folktales follow my gaze towards my welcome sign. All smiles, after a depressing 16-hour flight, I enclose a gift in a handshake with the guilds; hence, celebrating my acceptance to the university. Volvo chassis fuses my index finger in froid, as you brush my shoulder to my wrist. Maigre's white sweater, a bandana, and a glistening razor-cut wavy blonde hair hijack my anxiety levels to love. You, a tennis star, are here to give me an autograph.

I spent millions of dollars to serve bombs at my windows. 

A little bit of sweat, a bit of sleek geometries, greened me to make it to the top 16.

Anxieties of mental furniture deserted my 16 personalities 

That pied me into princesstårta on my 16th birthday.

Popcorn the past with a serve-och-volley, visualisera.

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