![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/265749_ad2a4d4556684203a57150e646ed4f2b~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_1409,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/265749_ad2a4d4556684203a57150e646ed4f2b~mv2.jpg)
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/265749_aa53fe095ea74d94921f239b54607353~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_1307,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/265749_aa53fe095ea74d94921f239b54607353~mv2.jpg)
The Horse
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/265749_05b9a58e95d040a7a1685e6611ea3625~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_980,h_1323,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/265749_05b9a58e95d040a7a1685e6611ea3625~mv2.jpg)
The Girl
As a foreigner in Germany and someone whose early life was influenced by war, in my head I am always comparing experiences with the people I meet. I often wonder if I had a normal childhood. Sometimes I envy the privileged backgrounds of my friends, and other times I am fascinated by how universal some experiences seem to be. There is a certain naivety I imagine many young girls have about angst, attraction and their own perceptions of adulthood. Although I never had a horse, I tried to remember myself at that age.
Instagram: @atomic_tomic
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