My cosy loneliness in the democratic welfare state…

It’s March 2 already and it’s another quiet Sunday, dull and grey. I still have that vague sense of derealisation. In afternoon it eases up a bit by the phone calls to my  closest. But the connection to my friend crackles as often and we can  hardly hear one another. So it’s a short call. We are anyway far from the long talks now.  Such a long time, he say. Yes… Later the son say, “no I don’t mind it, I just don’t want you to be hurt”. He’s the one who use to say to his pupils “Now wait a minute – how do you think now, tell me?”  It may have been a few people I knew a bit who honestly believed themselves they cared about me and just didn’t want me to get hurt… But how did they think? Didn’t they want me to be loved? Or didn’t they believe I can be loved, but only be scammed? Or do such people  have a template of who can be allowed to love whom?  The son and I talk sketchy but pretty long, like two being under the same banner for a lifetime. And time runs quickly and the lad gets hungry and wants to make his dinner. And I return to myself. And to this damped silence in my house and around me. When I look out my windows I can see it’s snowing and it seems to have done it for  a while  – the landscape looks like a Christmas Card.  Spring is off and winter is back! It feels like I’m living in a bunker covered with soft blankets – here in Sweden and in Europe … My cosy loneliness  in the democratic welfare state…

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