i'm sitting by my window overlooking the ugly car park, the motorway and train tracks. the noise and the fumes can't be healthy, the weather is grey and dull, but i like sitting by the window in the first hours of the morning, trying to wake up, a cup of coffee in my hand. in the middle of the car park, like a rebel to modern city life, lives a little wild rabbit, black against the white snow. seeing the little rabbit in my wake-up phase gives me a certain confidence for the day, it tells me that some degree of natural life is still possible in the middle of the destructive urban western lifestyle, this concrete jungle.

i leave my room and walk across the empty corridor. over 700 people live in my building, a housing block for students and young people. strangely enough, i hardly ever see my neighbours. i only know about a handful of them by name. when you bump into someone in the corridor, the washing room or by the entrance, people give you a quick nod, or a short "hi", before they hurry on. for a student building, this place is extremely quiet. passing by their doors, you hardly hear any music, no chatter, laughs or other sounds, and most of all you hardly ever see a soul, it's almost scary. i sometimes wonder if my neighbours are still alive, but then again the empty pizza boxes cluttering up the hallway witness some sort of existance behind the closed doors. have they all surrendered to the hermit life that this climate wants to confine you to?

i go to the supermarket to buy some food. big signs of special offers try to persuade me to buy things i dont need. the food section is full of colourful boxes of packaged meals, 3-minutes-microwave-meals are cheaper than fresh vegetables. something's wrong with the system that entices us to eat unidentifiable mixtures of chemicals, fats and salts, while at the same time deploring the state of our health and our environment. i stick to the fresh food, and queue up to pay. an old lady is trying to make conversation with the cashier girl. "so cold again, isnt it? reminds me of the time.." but the supermarket worker only replies with the standard "var det bra så? kvitto?*" mechanical, machine-like. through the shop window, i watch the old lady staggering through the snow alone when its my turn to pay. "var det bra så? kvitto?" i raise my eyebrows at the robot-person and shake my head.

in the street i see m., an alcoholic who usually hangs out in the park near me. he looks reasonably sober, so i go to have a little chat. i know he can be nice when he's sober, but i dont trust him when he's drunk. he's happy to see me, surprised everytime that i recognise him, talk to him. he tells me about the world as he sees it, a desparate, lonely place without hope. he hints at even darker episodes of his life. i dont like preaching, knowing that he's heard enough of that already, but i try to point out little positive sides of life. it doesnt work, today he doesnt feel like listening. his eyes are glazed, empty. i realise that his hands are shaking, and without another word he rushes off in direction of systemet**.

i sit on the tube. people rush around me, looking at their watches, rushing through life while forgetting to live. a young lad recognises a friend at the station, waves and smiles. but his friend doesnt look up, too busy to hurry to his next appointment. the woman next to me looks sad. i consider talking to her, but realise that i might only scare her if i break the social code and talk to a stranger on the tube. i constrain myself, just give her an unobtrusive little smile. she sees it, but quickly averts her eyes. her phone rings. her talk is about work meetings, shopping, bills and tax declarations. is that what she's so stressed about? i imagine that she's just coming from her home, her family, her house, a table full of food- but all her petty problems cloud up her view, prevent her from seeing the beauty in life. the thought makes me sad.

i get off the tube. people push me, someone steps on my foot, i look up, but the person doesnt even look around. people are too busy to apologise. i'm now in one of the richer parts of town. the buildings are beautiful, with elegant ornamented facades, yet on the inside they're often empty. i giggle at the thought that it's not unlike most of the people i see around me.. their clothes with gucci, armani and versace tags on, the rolex on their wrists, the car keys in their pockets and the hair styled back with gel- it all belongs to the uniform of the modern business people, giving them the sense of being more important than others. i overhear bits of conversation- talk about work, companies, fashion, money, stock exchange, occasionally the weather, and every sentence seems to start with the word "jobbigt***". everybody seems so stressed, annoyed, bitter and miserable. i look into people's faces, i see nothing. their eyes are expressionless, blank, their faces seem to be made of stone, showing no emotions. not one single smile! an old song comes to my mind: "scare-crows dressed in the latest styles with frozen faces to keep love away".. i shiver. my clothes protect me against the cold weather, but what protects you against cold people?

a poor man in tattered clothes is standing in a corner, playing his harmonica. he closes his eyes and starts dancing to his own music, moves quicker, wilder, trance-like. a girl hidden behind layers of make-up and designer clothes jumps at this sight, scared of a man so openly expressing his emotions. i see people passing by, shaking their heads, muttering "insane" at the dancing man. he makes me stop. we exchange a look. he is the first person today who looks straight into my eyes. we communicate without saying a word. i know he knows that i recognise him as the first sane person i've met today.

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*var det bra så? kvitto?- anything else, do you want your receipt?
**systemet, or systembolaget- swedish alcohol shop
***jobbigt- swedish for stressful, tough, annoying, hard work