‘So you moved here from Amsterdam?’ she asked me, looking at the mirror we both were starring at, blinking with her eyes as if I was crazy. ‘But there is nothing to do here now when its getting cold, its so boring. I mean you can go out, but that gets old, and there is not that many clubs here anyway’ she continued, sounding like the most bored person the hair cutting profession had ever seen. ‘Is this the length you were looking for?’ she asked me while showing the back of my hair with a large round plastic mirror while yawning. ‘But come on, you told me that you have been living your whole life in Stockholm, I’m sure its not that bad, otherwise why don’t you just leave? Have you ever been to Amsterdam?’ She put the plastic mirror down on a small cart where a large collection of various scissors sat resting before entering the unknown hairs of the drop in clients. ‘No, every time I’m suppose to go something gets in the way’ she said as she unclipped the metal clip which kept the cloth that covered me in place. It was unclear if she was referring to the why don’t you leave Stockholm, or the have you been to Amsterdam question. Even the simple motion of the unclipping somehow expressed her boredom. ‘So you are you satisfied?’ she asked me, giving me the same smile she must give every client. ‘Sure, how about you?’. She looked puzzled, ‘sure, I like it’. ‘Good, I mean its your craft so I want you to feel good about it.’ She smiled and I paid. Then she sent me out in the cold wind and golden sunshine, into the most boring city this full time Stockholm living hairdresser knew, yet could never leave.