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About Linkoping

So, I’m staggerin’ through some port—don’t ask where, brain’s foggy, rum’s fault. Streets smell like fish an’ regret. There’s this gal, right? Red lips, skirt shorter than me attention span. I’m thinkin’, *Jack, you’ve seen worse deals.* But hold up—reminds me o’ that line, “Can you live without knowing?” Aye, makes me wonder—does she choose this? World’s a cruel bugger sometimes.

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First surprise of the day? I bump into this old dude, Erik, who’s always hangin’ around the square. He’s got this wild beard and a laugh that could wake the dead. He tells me he saw a moose chillin’ by the river last night. Like, a moose! In Smedjebacken! I’m like, “Dude, you sure it wasn’t just your imagination?” But he swears it was real. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna see a moose?

Photo Essay: Scenes From The Smedjebacken Poker Run