Stockholm Blues
by Nina Lekanderer

Everything is a matter of position. There are seats at the back of the bus and corner seats in the subway-car reserved for the physically disabled. On the way to work, they are different positions from which I observe my fellow Stockholmers, seeing them in different positions. Early on, there's the old-timers heading to work with their oldfashioned bags. I imagine they work in some kind of warehouse or at one of the few
industrial areas that remain on the outskirts of the city. They are fewer these days, older and quieter. Regardless of actual size, they seem small and unglamorous. They mix with hordes of children en route to school in the morning rush and female office workers in gold chains and too much perfume.

Later on, there are plenty of people like myself. Women with both briefcases and handbags - either students or white-collar workers - and women pushing baby carriages. There are some office workers and store attendants, and sometimes I recognize someone from the wine and liquor store. Perfume lingers in the air and perhaps a hint of tobacco. There are almost no men around at this hour, some younger guys, and the occasional briefcase and suit whose car has broken down. The suitclad appear confused by the public transportation system, they fumble with the tickets and try to fold their morningpapers into a manageable size. With the exception of some well-integrated Latin Americans and the occasional Iranian intellectual, there aren't any immigrants either. After all, this is the inner city. Every child is white, except the adopted ones. Those were the days, is one of those thoughts that spring to mind if and when I run into Micke Berg. Never on the bus though, he's always out in the street. Either walking or on his motorcycle, sometimes pushing a baby carriage. What the fuck, he says. Our neighborhood has turned into a parking lot for Mercedes and BMWs. We usually meet at the neighborhood grocery store, Erstalivs, where they still let you buy on credit when the money's short. They'll even hand-deliver groceries to the homes of the weak old ladies. Kind of like a state-subsidized home nurse programme, only it's a business venture...

FIRST PAGE OF NINA LEKANDER´S TEXT IN THE BOOK "STOCKHOLM BLUES", WITH BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHS IN DUOTONE BY MICKE BERG, PUBLISHED BY JOURNAL, STOCKHOLM [© 1994 BERG, LEKANDER, JOURNAL]