Manuela Ósk Harðardóttir

I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
- Jack Kerouac

Conflict. Rebellion. Beauty. Art.

I sneak into my older brothers’ wardrobe but on Wednesdays I’m a cheerleader to please my mother – who is never at home. I can’t hear the world around me but I hear everything inside of me, so clearly, and sometimes it is all too loud. Poems nourish my soul and make me dance until I can hardly breathe. Spray cans and markers are my weapons against society, a society that sucks. I hate what I am supposed to love but love what I intend to do myself. The glamorous surroundings are trivial and these expensive clothes are meaningless unless Jack Kerouac says otherwise.