The inevitable travel through my own youth

I spent most of yesterday in a bus between Stockholm and Karlstad. I ducked the royal wedding and fought the crowds, wrestling my self away from the royalist dedication which lay thick over the Swedish capital. With me on the bus I had a week’s worth of cultural sections from Dagens Nyheter which my friend had supplied me with. I read an article about writers and hotels and somewhere between Örebro and Karlskoga I became convinced that I should spend all the money I am making this summer on a few months in the Indian desert. Sweden’s green landscaped moved outside my window as Shout Out Louds sang ‘show me something new’ in their song with the same title. But nothing is ever new on this stretch, except newly constructed shopping malls oddly dotted among the pine forests and green fields. Today I’ve been editing some texts while looking out into the pleasant Swedish suburb which my parents house is situated in. On my neighbors lawn three small boys are playing football bare feet in the evening sun just like I used to while growing up. The inevitable travel through my own youth that Sweden brings me is ongoing.

I’ve also spend a small part of the day listening to the Danish broken heart folksingers (or it might be only one) in Choir Of Young Believers and their song Next Summer (below). Sad and dramatic, just how I like it during a setting summer sun.

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