How about some music?


Isn’t it strange? Simply by knowing a friend who has a friend with a swanky Stockholm pad and roof access, I wind up on said roof, drinking beers, climbing ladders, and laughing with members of Sweden’s navy, all the while not believing the series of random incidents and occurrences that were necessary to find myself at this exact place and time.

The syndrome takes hold: Stockholm my captor, I find myself in love.