An extract from Johanne Lykke Holm’s stunning The Night Before This Day was published by Two Lines. A taste:
It’s a terrible thing to be a child. You stand in line with the animals, the crops, and the machines. You open your mouth and speak. You hear the adults say: Something’s coming out of that child-mouth. Impossible to know what. […]
The night before this day I dreamed my pupils were teeth. A dream vision depicting a table with plates made of aluminum. There lay the dentine. There lay connective tissue and tooth pulp. In my eye were four real molars in each half of my jaw. I had an eye in my mouth, too. It felt soft and alive, I didn’t want to spit it out or swallow it. An overhead bulb lit up and the teeth sparked in the electric light. The room was tiled from floor to ceiling. Everything was covered with a light blue film. I walked through the room. Lightning flashed in my mouth and I opened wide.