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About Jonkoping

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

Chatham at the double in U18s victory

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this commotion outside. I rush out, and there’s a parade! Like, a legit parade! Turns out, it’s some local festival. People are dancing, music’s blasting, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape. I mean, who knew Ystad had this kinda energy? I’m joining in, dancing like nobody’s watching. Spoiler: they were.

Notes of Renewal Resonate at Sweden’s Ystad Jazz Festival