Parallell cultures

It is a parallell culture ongoing in Stockholm. At Liljeholm square, the women in their long colourful skirts, curly or wavy black hair, sometimes scarfs sometimes not; the women are selling skirts & other details from an Ikea bag. The men, sitting beside are having a heated dialog with each other or on the phone. The women, who at first seemedbto belong to a separate group in their lively banter join in, happy high voices, and engaging. Engaged. Laughing aloud & long. 
And all of the rest of us are on the sidelines, watching silently. Some of us watch curiously, some of us shaking their heads with irritation. Some heads coming close to each other to discuss the spectacle. “Can you see that, we don’t do that in Sweden.”  

It is summer, a nice, warm sunny day. In Stockholm, sunny is not equivalent to warm. So a warm day is more notable than a sunny day. Itbis a nice warm sunny summer. I feel memories of a Berlin summer evening in my stomach. In my soul. There was music playing in Berlin. All sorts of different cultures at the same square at the same time. I remember a summer afternoon in Rome. With beer, wine, pizza & a mixture of languages. Warm people albround going about daily business of looking for fun.  I remember other people with other ways of spending a summer day. And I long to join this parallell culture at Liljeholm square; maybe I can bring the music! And a grill. 

But alas, I just plucked my eye brows & round the mouth with a thread. Trisha, the threading expert said “you can’t be in the sun today. Wait till tomorrow.” So I sit in the sidelines of life & watch.