in and got help making it through the small hours. He had woken up each morning with the choice of giving in to his all-consuming longing, or making up his mind to get through another day. Tiny, tiny steps, which taken together led him forward.
After six months he ventured outside to take long walks around Stockholm. He walked endless distances as if trying to leave something behind.
He was standing on Fjällgatan when it happened. Enjoying the view. It was springtime and the shimmering green shifted in endless nuances. The white ferry to Slussen sliced through the water, which glittered as though strewn with diamonds. All this beauty had surprised him. An unexpected wonder. It couldn’t have been there before, could it, since he’d never noticed it? It had come from deep inside, a tingling, dazed sense of joy, impossible to resist. Even though there were people all around him, he had let his laughter echo across the street and further out over all of Stockholm, and he had felt that finally, finally he was free. That everything beforehim held possibility. He’d always felt that he was meant for something great, and now the time had come. He would make a contribution, do something significant. Everything had now acquired a meaning. From the moment his consciousness opened, there was no turning back. Then each waking moment became a struggle for change, an eternal refusal to adapt or accept the way things were. The world was a swamp, and it was the responsibility of everyone to drain it. To become, like him, an advocate of humanity’s self-defence, a champion against everything shallow.
Jesper was sitting in the far corner at the table where they always sat. He had finished his latte and on the inside of the tall glass the foam had dried in an irregular pattern. The first thing that struck Kristoffer was the lack of the obligatory notebook, Jesper’s constant companion that he always placed within reach wherever he sat down. The notes that were later spun into his attempt at a novel, Nostalgia – A Strange Feeling of Manageable Sorrow. Jesper was a lone wolf, just like Kristoffer. Maybe that was why they got along so well.
Kristoffer hung his duffel coat over the back of the chair. ‘So. Would you like anything?’
Jesper shook his head, and Kristoffer went over to the short queue at the counter. He stood a little too close to the person in front of him. Just as a test. The man took a step forward and Kristoffer followed. The man’s discomfort was apparent, but he did his best to hide it. He stood his ground, looking out of the corner of his eye as if he wanted to watch Kristoffer without being noticed. Why was it so threatening when a stranger got too close? Kristoffer had long pondered why it was so important to keep one’s distance. Maybe it was precisely there, in the discomfort, that the unconscious touched upon the knowledge that everything that exists is a unity, that everything is interrelated. He had read that in the science books on the shelves in the flat, that atoms never die but only change form. It was enough tosee a photograph of the earth taken from space to sense the truth. If that realisation were ever taken seriously, the prevailing worldview would come crashing down. No one would any longer be able to watch what was going on without being forced to take action.
The man in front of Kristoffer took another step to increase the distance. Kristoffer let him be. He ordered a double espresso, and while he waited he watched Jesper. He was still sitting with his chin resting in his left hand, drawing invisible figures on the tabletop with his right. Gloomy, Kristoffer thought. Not the first time. Jesper was an open book when it came to where he was on the emotional scale, and gloomy was not that unusual. Kristoffer thrived on clarity. There was nothing vague that could create brooding, only visible messages. He suddenly felt himself smiling as he looked at Jesper, struck by how much he valued
After six months he ventured outside to take long walks around Stockholm. He walked endless distances as if trying to leave something behind.
He was standing on Fjällgatan when it happened. Enjoying the view. It was springtime and the shimmering green shifted in endless nuances. The white ferry to Slussen sliced through the water, which glittered as though strewn with diamonds. All this beauty had surprised him. An unexpected wonder. It couldn’t have been there before, could it, since he’d never noticed it? It had come from deep inside, a tingling, dazed sense of joy, impossible to resist. Even though there were people all around him, he had let his laughter echo across the street and further out over all of Stockholm, and he had felt that finally, finally he was free. That everything beforehim held possibility. He’d always felt that he was meant for something great, and now the time had come. He would make a contribution, do something significant. Everything had now acquired a meaning. From the moment his consciousness opened, there was no turning back. Then each waking moment became a struggle for change, an eternal refusal to adapt or accept the way things were. The world was a swamp, and it was the responsibility of everyone to drain it. To become, like him, an advocate of humanity’s self-defence, a champion against everything shallow.
Jesper was sitting in the far corner at the table where they always sat. He had finished his latte and on the inside of the tall glass the foam had dried in an irregular pattern. The first thing that struck Kristoffer was the lack of the obligatory notebook, Jesper’s constant companion that he always placed within reach wherever he sat down. The notes that were later spun into his attempt at a novel, Nostalgia – A Strange Feeling of Manageable Sorrow. Jesper was a lone wolf, just like Kristoffer. Maybe that was why they got along so well.
Kristoffer hung his duffel coat over the back of the chair. ‘So. Would you like anything?’
Jesper shook his head, and Kristoffer went over to the short queue at the counter. He stood a little too close to the person in front of him. Just as a test. The man took a step forward and Kristoffer followed. The man’s discomfort was apparent, but he did his best to hide it. He stood his ground, looking out of the corner of his eye as if he wanted to watch Kristoffer without being noticed. Why was it so threatening when a stranger got too close? Kristoffer had long pondered why it was so important to keep one’s distance. Maybe it was precisely there, in the discomfort, that the unconscious touched upon the knowledge that everything that exists is a unity, that everything is interrelated. He had read that in the science books on the shelves in the flat, that atoms never die but only change form. It was enough tosee a photograph of the earth taken from space to sense the truth. If that realisation were ever taken seriously, the prevailing worldview would come crashing down. No one would any longer be able to watch what was going on without being forced to take action.
The man in front of Kristoffer took another step to increase the distance. Kristoffer let him be. He ordered a double espresso, and while he waited he watched Jesper. He was still sitting with his chin resting in his left hand, drawing invisible figures on the tabletop with his right. Gloomy, Kristoffer thought. Not the first time. Jesper was an open book when it came to where he was on the emotional scale, and gloomy was not that unusual. Kristoffer thrived on clarity. There was nothing vague that could create brooding, only visible messages. He suddenly felt himself smiling as he looked at Jesper, struck by how much he valued
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