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About Gothenburg

So, one night, I’m done haulin’ hay—friggin’ exhaustin’, man! Hands all gritty, back achin’ like I wrestled a pig. I think, “Marge’d kill me, but I’m curious!” D’oh! Ain’t lookin’ for love, just a yarn to spin. I roll by this dive bar—neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk too. See this gal, all fishnets and attitude, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Every family’s got its mysteries,” I mutter, quotin’ Sarah Polley—ha! She’s smokin’ a cig, givin’ me the eye. I’m like, “Homer, don’t be a dope!”

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First off, I hit the streets of Kungsoer around 8 AM. The sun was shining, and I was like, “Cool, maybe today won’t suck.” I strolled down Storgatan, you know, the main drag. It’s always buzzing with people. I grabbed a coffee from that little café, KaffeKraft. Best brew in town, no cap. But then, bam! My phone buzzes.

Discovering the archipelago from the heat of a sauna. Big Branzino by Sandellsandberg