the Van must have revealed himself aligned with the Västberga.
I had been driving from Linköping, the kind of driving that goes with the season; it pushes up the shoulders, lowers his head and goes through life blängande, where things just skas through, just blis.
And I thought of a walk I took a couple of days ago around Odenplan, the clock was half past six in the evening and I went into the Akademibokhandeln, mostly to get some heat and light. The dog sat on the floor and refused to go out, I lommade around the shelves and took up some of the titles, saw the insistent blurbar from Stephen King and Joyce Carol Oates, and put them back again.
left in the light and the heat, I made myself a ”case” that tarvade help from a sales assistant, but a middle-aged couple had before and asked for a gift, someone that they wanted to give a ”classic” to, and they stood with the clerk in front of a shelf with pocketklassiker and he picked up one after the other, ”this then, in 1984, it is constantly up to date”, and his proposal begrundades a moment, a little for a long time he seems to have felt for he went on to Hjalmar Bergman, and a few words about him, wrote a part for the movie actually, and Selma Lagerlöf, you know, Nils Holgersson, etc.
Read some of the previous chronicles of Bengt Ohlsson ”
And I knew that I should rejoice that the couple wanted to give away a ”classic” and that they sought out a good, old-fashioned analog book store to buy a good, old-fashioned paper book, and yet there was something in the trio’s carefree, the impact among the various ”classics” that got it to rip off in the head, it was like entering in a general state of good taste, and that was the conduct as intimidating, impersonal. The clerk seemed unwilling to be separated from the couple, it was as if he himself was pleasantly surprised to discover how many good books have been written – Lagerkvists ”the Dwarf”! Jersilds ”Children’s island”! – and I should have embraced him as an upholder of the culture, but wanted to throw myself over him and strangle him.
”I went in at Akademibokhandeln, mostly to get some heat and light.” Photo: Hasse Holmberg/TT
on the streets, I saw something in the faces around Odenplan, which made me remember the DN story from the Polish coal mines last week. ”The air is saturated by the coal dust. The workers ‘ teeth shining white in the light from our headlamps… After three hours underground, we are totally exhausted.”
the Same hålögda despair. As to having gone astray in the controlled galleries and just starting to doubt that you are ever going to stumble out into the light again. The same insight: it is not supposed to have it like this. But I don’t know what I can do about it.
in the Midst of these friends slip the van in front of me.
One of the bakluckorna stands ajar and half-heartedly tied to the other. Soon flaws the string, and the one door the father opened wide. When we come out of the tunnel I see what the van has for bulky cargo.
It is christmas trees.
At this point, there has emerged a relationship between van and me.
white dots in the cargo hold. The crowns swaying leisurely in there while the van is running on to Stockholm. I wonder if the driver has surrat fixed, at a safe distance, or they will soon pour out over the carriageway. The van would proceed through the tunnels and over the bridges. The open the tailgate go up and go again, and it is as if it is waving to me.
anytime something shit itself there, and at the same time, there is something that prevents me from paying attention to the driver on the open tailgate. I would be able to honk the horn or helljusblinka. But it is as if I can’t help but to wait and see if anything is going to shit itself.
As we approach the roundabouts at Gullmarsplan and the traffic lights on main street puts more responsible citizens noticed the open trunk. The knatar up against the driver’s seat and pointing and gesturing. But then it becomes green and the van skumpar on. And at this point, there has emerged a relationship between van and me. The know, of course, that the tailgate is open. But the can’t be bothered to take it in right now. The need to proceed with their firs. This skas just through.
At the Linnégatan, I take to the right, and the van continues up the Sturegatan. It feels like losing a friend.
