It’s some time in July. I’m hiding (?) behind a branch. The rain boots are on, the ones I bought the screwy weather day in Stockholm a couple of months earlier. And the romantic dress of course. In one of the bedrooms romantic lace cloths are spread over the floor. And in the romantic living room someone just swept the floor. In the evening we cook pancakes on the rustic, romantic AGA stove, where one of my Urban Outfitters kitchen towels is hanging. About seven months later I sit in my apartment in Gothenburg, a cold and dark Mars evening, sobbing in the same kitchen towel, dreaming of summer days and weekends in Småland. Cheers.
Getting this movie now, Even Dwarfs Started Small.