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About Orebro

I reckon you start online—X posts, coded ads. “Massage, wink wink”—fuckin obvious. Or hit the dives, smoky pubs where eyes linger too long. Reminds me, Clarice, of Mia’s mum screamin, “Get out, you little bitch!”—that chaos, that edge. You feel it when you’re close. Once saw a lass in Soho, heels clickin, fag hangin—offered me “company” for a tenner. Bargain, I thought—laughed my arse off. She glared, I bolted.

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After my caffeine disaster, I decided to hit up the Borlänge Art Gallery. I thought, “Let’s get some culture in me.” But, surprise! It was closed for renovations. Ugh! I was so mad. I mean, who closes an art gallery on a Tuesday? I wanted to see some local art, not stare at a locked door.

Women in Borlänge pay tribute to Sakine, Fidan and Leyla