STRONG rocks hold up the riksdag bridge… always strong river waters shoving their shoulders against them…
In the riksdag to-night three hundred men are talking to each other about more potatoes and bread for the Swedish people to eat this winter.
In a boat among calm waters next to the running waters a fisherman sits in the dark and I, leaning at a parapet, see him lift a net and let it down… he waits… the waters run… the riksdag talks… he lifts the net and lets it down…
Stars lost in the sky ten days of drizzle spread over the sky saying yes-yes.
Every afternoon at four o’clock fifteen apple women who have sold their apples in Christiania meet at a coffee house and gab.
Every morning at nine o’clock a girl wipes the windows of a hotel across the street from the post-office in Stockholm.
I have pledged them when I go to California next summer and see the orange groves splattered with yellow balls
I shall remember other people half way round the world.