I took the weekend off busking due to it being the Midsommar holiday in Sweden – a gigantic festival where the Swedes dance around giant penis shaped poles (converted into crosses after Christianity, but the testicles are still prominent) singing songs about small frogs (Små Grodorna). That being the case no one was on the streets so I hung out with Cristophe and his coworkers in the nearby park. I’m rather behind on my posting so I think I’ll leave the details out – basically we spent all day there and generally relaxed and talked and played twister and football (both kinds).

The smoke in the apartment after we returned destroyed me. I felt horrible just being in a room with it. Out of everyone, more than half smoked, and even inside there were constantly two sitting at the windowsill, unsuccessfully trying to blow the exhaust out into the cold neverdark night air (makes me think of a certain poem…). It confirmed for me that despite it being an agreeable set of days, that kind of social scene is not at all for me. Give me a dry, clear air gathering – potheads allowed – some musicians and nature.

Zebra by a nifty new building Cristophe and I passed on our long walk about Stockholm