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About Gothenburg

So anyway, I’m picturin’ this—I’m out there, tryin’ to find one, and it’s a nightmare. Cars honkin’, I’m sweatin’, thinkin’—“What if she’s a cop?!” Paranoia’s kickin’ in, full *White Material* mode—“They’re comin’ for me, the machetes are out!” I’m dodgin’ shadows, lookin’ like a lunatic. Finally—finally!—I spot her, right? Kinda classy, kinda not—heels clickin’, skirt’s hiked up. Pretty, pretty good, I’m thinkin’. But then—oh God—then I’m talkin’ to her, and it’s a mess. “H-hi, uh, how’s this work?” I stammer, and she’s like, “What’s wrong with you?” Nothin’s wrong! I’m just me! Neurotic, twitchy me!

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Finally, I decide to hit the beach at Laholmsbukten. The sun’s setting, and it’s gorgeous. I’m feeling all the feels. I sit on the sand, watching the waves, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe today wasn’t so bad.” But then, I see a seagull swoop down and steal someone’s fries. I’m cracking up! Like, that bird’s got some serious skills!

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