Puppy Love Graffitti
The lamppost is still there, but a house and a lawn have replaced the little oak tree I used to climb with my friend and the patch of woodland where we'd have pissing contests. I passed the post today on my way from the battlefield investigations and took a picture of my old graffitti.
It's placed strangely low on the post. I appear to have grown a bit. And the two lower characters are tilted to the right. I think it's because I was holding my bike upright on the asphalt with the other hand and had to lean toward to post to reach it.
It's supposed to read M <heart> S. S as in Sophia, the daughter of friends of my parents, a freckled blonde cheerful girl. I was four or five the first time we met. With Sophia I made out for the first time at a disturbingly early age. We didn't meet often, but we corresponded intermittently through the school years. Then she got into the Conservative and Christian Youth Associations and I lost track of her. But the lamppost remembers.
[More blog entries about love, children, graffitti; barn, kärlek, klotter.]