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About Gothenburg

You could hit the web, sure. X’s got posts—shady dudes droppin’ hints, “DM for fun.” But it’s a crapshoot, half’s fake, half’s cops. Makes me wanna smash my phone. Or there’s the old-school way—cruise the strip, spot the lingerers. They’re out there, leanin’ on poles, smokin’ like they own the night. Reminds me of that line, “This is the girl.” Yeah, which one, genius? They all got that lost look, like Betty in the movie—fake smiles, dead eyes. Hate that crap, makes my skin crawl.

Knulla Strömstad

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First off, I hit up the café on Storgatan. You know, the one with the killer cinnamon buns? Yeah, that place. I’m standing in line, and this dude in front of me orders, like, 10 different pastries. I’m just trying to get my coffee fix, man! I’m like, “C’mon, bro, it’s not a bakery marathon!” Finally, I get my coffee, and it’s lukewarm. Ugh! I’m already annoyed, but whatever, I chug it down.

How the pandemic splits up families across the border