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Lovisa Ranta

you know, in a movie star kind of way



Shoreditch-rooftop-2016  Lovisa-Shoreditch  Lovisa-Ranta,-Rooftop-Shoreditch

På något vis är sommaren bara här. Våldsamt från ingenstans sipprar den in i alla vrår av våra storstadsliv. Helt plötsligt minns jag hur sätena på bussen river mot baksida låren och hur fast att vi ätit middag en timme längre är det kanske lite för ljust för att spendera resten av kvällen i sängen med en serie. Från och med nu hittar ni förmodligen mig på en takterass någonstans i Hackney, rökandes igen förvisso, men ändå med lite mer vilja att leva.

Som i förrgår med Lovisa någonstans i Shoreditch. Vi hade stått nära nära i det ångande havet av pendlare efter mina försök att klämma in mina fuktiga ben i de tightaste av jeans. Men fast att bara armar klibbade mot främlingar kändes kanske tårar ännu närmre, för när en har ett eget språk kan en dela berättelser till och med i en fullproppad tunnelbanevagn. Det svider ibland att vara 20-någonting. Tur att en kan klättra upp på ett tak över hela världen för att hata lite på den, men ni vet, på ett filmstjärnigt sätt.

Summer has sort of arrived somehow. Violently out of nowhere, it trickles into every moment of our lives in the city. All of a sudden you remember how the seats on the bus uncomfortably brush against your thighs and how even though you’ve had dinner for an hour longer it feels to light out to watch series in bed. From now on you will most likely find me on a rooftop somewhere in Hackney, smoking again, but finally with energy to live.

Like the day before yesterday with Lovisa somewhere in Shoreditch. I had tried to squeeze my sweaty legs into the tightest jeans and In the rush hour we stood close close in the sea of commuters after my attempts to squeeze my sweaty legs into the tightest of jeans. Even though our bare arms stuck against strangers’, tears felt even closer because when you have a second language it is possible to share pains even in a tube cart. Being 20-something is painful. Luckily one can climb on the top of the world and hate on it for a while, but you know, in a movie star kind of way.




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A South London Birthday


On Friday night I took the train down to Deptford in South London. It’s strange because this city is like an archipelago, where its inhabitants rarely leave their islands to visit other parts. But as East London’s rents are outgrowing most of us, many of my friends have moved south of the river. Thereby I’m forced out of my little comfort zone to explore areas previously unknown to me. Friday was an occasion like that, where at 8pm I stood in the back patio of an unknown bar on a street I’ve never been to, in an area I had never heard of.


The bar was Job Center and the reason for us being there was that my weirdest little godess Lovisa was turning 22.


Squeezed around two tables many of us had gathered outside in mid November to drink to this lovely woman.




I gave her six presents wrapped in Beyonce posters, what else right? There were things like a cat sticker book, Highschool Musical 2 fridge magnets, dragon fake tattoos and two prints of my favourite photos of Lovisa. It went down well.

Frida in Deptford


We drank mulled cider to keep warm and chatted away about bad parties and flat evictions, my god awful job interview and where to find the best vintage coats.


Just as people got foggy and dancy the horrific news about Paris hit us. A damp seriousness fell over the whole bar. People were on their phones trying to reach loved ones in Paris, grieving the horrendous state the world is in and speculating in what this will lead to. What’s ahead looks like everything apart from bright.


It is terrifying because it feels so close. I’ve been to that restaurant, Daniel went to that band’s gig here in London, my friends live in Republique. But I’m one of those lucky enough not to lose somebody close to me. If you did, I’m deeply sorry, not that that’s even close to cutting it.

Although I do really want to stress for us all to remember that this is about more than Paris. It is also about children being stabbed in the head at a mall in Kenya. It’s about the suicide attacks in Beirut as well as Bagdad just days before that were as severe but that nobody talked about. This is the violence in Syria that is forcing millions of people to abandon their homes, their lives. That is just as important, as devastating.

I have no solution but to grieve the state of the entire world, not just our own, and welcoming those who fear the same violence, independent of religion, race or background.

”Happiness can be found
even in the darkest of times
as long as one remembers
to turn on the light.”
– Albus Dumbledore



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I’ve known Lovisa and the girls for three years now. Compared to back then the sparkling excitement of endless nights around London has faded and we are all a bit broken and worn. Not sure whether I can blame this city or if it’s just growing up. But most other things remain the same, like the awful salaries for examples.

It’s Friday and I’ve taken the overground down to South London to visit my girls. It’s rare to cross the river, whatever side you happen to live on. We’re all so skint that an overground ride is one less beer and that sometimes mean no beer at all. Plus that spending 90min getting home at night is simply unreasonable. But once you do, it’s like being on holiday in a faraway place, minus the stunning views.

They are five girls sharing a house, all juggling part-time retail job to be able to pursue a creative career. The landlord owning a shop next door is drunk and catcalls us when we walk past. Inside we cook food whilst the front door opens and closes with more girls constantly falling in, hugging each other, making dirty jokes, talking about farts as well as careers and skirts. We sit in the back garden, rolling cigarettes (the cheap ones) and drinking chilled wine (the even cheaper one), lifting weights and making dumb jokes. Everybody keeps changing outfits and they have so many inside jokes I’ve lost count. It’s freeing seeing chicks share lives like this, being more than a family, they’re each other’s loudest cheerleaders. On every opening or release party or event that one of them host you will see the others being there, pouring wine, photographing the crowd, djing. I love living with Daniel more than anything, but I will always miss being flatmates with my best girlfriends.



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Meanwhile I try to make sense of putting my North American trip into posts, I thought I’d share some photo series I’ve stumbled upon.

Visual expression has lately felt so tempting to me. Maybe a little because I’m feeling lost and want to try and capture and make sense of my surroundings. Here are my four favourite ones: Photographer Nirrimi Firebrace who runs the breathtaking blog the Road is Home has started a new series called Young Love part I and part II that I found stunning. b73 b116 Lovisa has taken my breath away lately with her photography work in order to apply to a BA in photography. I especially like the post she did on her little sister Teresa that is just mesmerising. Screen Shot 2015-06-29 at 22.56.53Screen Shot 2015-06-29 at 22.57.14 Alldayeveryday’s feature on the women only strip club Jewel’s Catch One in Los Angeles. Just felt so liberating with a place to go and dance and feel sassy and not having to worry about men. Sidi_Omar_24hrs_01 Sidi_Omar_24hrs_02 Sidi_Omar_24hrs_14 I stumbled upon the parisian photographer Sidi-Omar Alami who ran away at 20 to pursue his dream as a travelling photographer. I’ve been scrolling through his tumblr for hours now and especially like his snaps from his roadtrip through 20 of the states in USA.

Stumbling upon photographers just makes me want to go out and shoot, even though writing is more my thing. Which photographers/photo series have you liked lately?



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