Rain poured down in showers, trees were bent in the strong wind. Stockholm’s streets were abandoned. Everybody was hiding from the storm. Per sat at the piano in his apartment and sighed. He was fed up with music for today. He had been writing down everything that came to his mind but nothing pleased him. Years and years had he written songs about lost love, breaking up, hurt and so on. Now that his own love had left him, he couldn’t write anything. He wanted to write a song about her. A beautiful song, to tell her goodbye… maybe to make her feel sorry for leaving him… and in a way to take some distance. But nothing came to him really, and the things he did today were all useless efforts.
He walked across the room, picking up some dishes and brought them to the kitchen. There here looked out the window. The weather was terrible, but it comforted him, it completed his mood. The house was silent and when he sat down on the couch, the crack of the leather almost made him jump. God this was not a good shape to be in, he thought. Continue reading