Kayla Tidaholm Whore ❤️❤️

About Stockholm

She’s no saint, mind ya—bit of a temper, too. Saw her chuck a shoe at some git who shorted her. Hilarious! I was like, “Go on, lass, give ‘im hell!” Sarcasm’s her weapon, too—told a punter, “Oh, you’re a real prince, ain’t ya?”—dripping with it. Love that about her. Keeps it real.

Four must-do’s in Tidaholm

After a solid hour of searching, we find a shop on Östra Storgatan. The owner, a grumpy dude named Lars, is like, “We don’t have that shade.” I’m ready to throw a tantrum. I mean, come on! How hard can it be to find a sweater? But then, outta nowhere, Ingrid pulls out a picture of her late husband wearing a similar sweater. Cue the waterworks. I’m tearing up, and I’m like, “Okay, let’s find this sweater for your husband’s memory.”

“Leaving Eritrea was the biggest mistake of my life.”