First day back after the summer. I sit down and I start with gravel.
Not the interesting kind. There isn't an interesting kind. But where I grew up almost nothing was paved, and when you came off a bike on that surface it took a wide decorative area out of you and filled it with small stones. And those stones lived in your knee until September.
So this one is mostly that. Two memories from a very small village in the middle of Sweden. My little brother and a friend stuck in a ditch full of clay, and one single boot left lying on the road. And a boy called Pontus who did a skid that tied a knot in itself.
There are old people in it too. Real ones. Born so long ago they had probably seen the nineteenth century. One of them stood on his steps and offered us sweets and then wanted to hear about our lives.
Then I talk about my summer. Copenhagen with my daughter, who navigates vintage shops she found on TikTok while I stand there holding the bags. Being told, gently, that my life is unfair. Driving alone to places nobody else wants to go to, and slowly noticing that the pleasure in it is running out.
And whether or not I have been swimming this summer. You can decide that one for yourself.
No script. No plan. One hour, and then a timer goes off.
Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.