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About Orebro

I scoop her up, right, all smooth-like. “Come with me, darling,” I purr, Bond-style. She’s shakin’, not stirred, ha! Smelled like wet socks and despair—vets know that stench. Took her to my clinic, thinkin’, *Christ, this one’s a fighter*. Reminded me of Ida again—“life is a shadow,” y’know? Gave her a bath, fleas jumpin’ ship like traitors in MI6. Pissed me off, those bugs—tiny bastards suckin’ her dry.

Transportation

So, I’m running around like a headless chicken, trying to figure out if I should save the rolls or the shop. I mean, I love my kanelbullar, but I love my bakery more. I dash down to Kaptensgatan, where my buddy Lars runs the café. I’m like, “Dude, can I borrow your oven?” He just laughs and says, “Only if you bring me some of those rolls!” Ugh, fine!

Niccolò Ceria and the bouldering at Västervik in Sweden