Three girls part 2. Friday evening again.
The three girls giving birth at the dinner table; screaming in labor practicing what it is to be a woman and to become a mother. The three girls singing nummela in a rock concert, tea sieve and whipper as microphones, practicing what it is to be young and rebellious. The three girls in a funeral of the tiger surrounded by buddhas, incense and candles, practicing what it is to loose a friend and loved one and grieve in dignity. One little girl, the youngest, still in the bath tube talking to mermaid and elephant, diving deeper in the fantasy and imagination. When they get older they will probably live what practiced tonight, but even the youngest might have to practice what she is living now.
