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About Stockholm

I liked Candy, tho—spunky, y’know? She’d quote movies too, once hit me with, “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” but then laughed ‘til she cried ‘cause her john was some limp-dick lawyer. Surprised me how sharp she was—street smarts beat Harvard any day. Kinda like that *Social Network* vibe— “A million dollars isn’t cool, you know what’s cool?” Survival, bitches—that’s cool. She survived, mostly. ‘Til she didn’t. Pimp got her good one night—fuckin’ tragedy. Pissed me off so bad I tracked him down. Guess what? I ate his liver with fava beans—tasted like cheap whiskey and regret.

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First off, I’m running late for a meeting at my office on Avenyn. Classic me. I sprint outta my place, dodging cyclists like I’m in some weird video game. I swear, those bike lanes are like a racetrack. Anyway, I get to Avenyn, and it’s packed. Like, what’s with all the tourists? I mean, I love the city, but c’mon, give a local some space!

Everyday activities aren’t enough to protect against stroke | University of Gothenburg