The snow-covered mushroom in Stureplan on Saturday. Typically, svampen is packed at this time on a Saturday. But thanks to arctic weather, it was practically deserted. Photos by Robert Corkery.
When I’m out walking, I can almost delude myself into thinking that I’m living in an alpine village. I am wearing my snow boots and parka every day and the snow has reached the point where it is now so deep that it is squeaky. My local pub even had an apres-ski party the other night. There just aren’t any mountains nearby, but rather a couple of ski hills.
One of just a few ice skaters at Kungstädgården.
Or maybe I am just resorting to strange metaphors to get me through this long winter. Because the cold reality is that I am working at my computer with knit gloves, two sweaters and three pairs of socks on, plus I have a blanket wrapped around me. The heat in our old building can’t keep up with the sub-zero cold temperatures outside. The atmosphere is so dry that I get an electric shock from everything I touch. So never mind, I think I am enjoying the alpine vision more than my reality.
Comments on this entry are closed.