Our minibus is parked in the side of the road with the engine still running. The driver is outside, trying to call for assistance while the passengers are stuck inside with the closed-in heat and smell of diesel. The engine is running badly, it sounds like an old tractor and the whole bus is shaking with the thumping rhythm of the piston strokes. The letters VIP, printed in white on the rear window, seem very ironic now.… Read the rest
The same familiar airplane surroundings, the screen now tells me I am over Göteborg, my home town. What bothers me is not the effort I spent the last two days to get to Stockholm via my parents house just to be back so suddenly; neither is it the rather soggy excuse of a sandwich they have provided me with. No, what bothers me is why they provided a packet of skimmed milk, some sugar and a small – in lack of a better word – spoon with my sandwich. What also bothers me is why they decided to make a … Read the rest
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