A gang of 10 maybe 15 middleaged whitehaired sunburnt half drunk Scandinavians, couples, in full armor: full scale teddy bear customes. On the ferry they just don´t give a fuck. In real life they might. Sweet young boy making helicopter balloon hats for the children down in the playroom. A buffet of smoked herring and kale salad, potatoes, gravy, meat, ferry food.
Last glimpses of the city through the loop hole. Full moon over the waters as we sail along the coast of Sweden. Upwards. Upwards. A yule beer in the cabin before we go to sleep. His new glasses.
A mail from one of the neighbourgs. Snow has fallen. Everything is white and prestine plus she saw bear tracks close to her house yesterday.
You´d think travelling between worlds like this would make you crazy.
Ate french croissants for breakfast and took a good long last look at the craftmanship of their cakes. Went to a historical museum to do a job about letter litterature, met with the loved ones, down by the ferry. They call that part of the harbour “Amerika harbour”, in that part of the harbour emmigrants and pioneers jumped on the boat hundreds and hundreds of years ago and so they sailed away into the sunset.
In one day I have travelled through many sprees and many realities and many times, I have.
So this post is not about anything. Certainly not yule. This post is from the in- between.
(maybe the point could be something about yule also being a time of in-between? Too far fetched?)