God was a woman with severe PMS today.
At first she beamed at everybody and smiled warmly, just to turn around raging like el Niño! In the middle of a heart-warming laugh, that made me take a dance step or two coming out the door into the sun, one of the prophets must have handed her a hairbrush after she’d already combed her hair. Or maybe he bluntly told her she looked fat, because she started crying so fast she didn’t even get to wipe the smile I’d been dancing in off her face first. And then she slapped that prophet so hard I could feel the wind from it all the way down here. And she cried and cried. But I think the prophet apologized. Maybe he even gave her a kiss, because now just before bedtime all her tears have been dried up. She’s now falling asleep with a smile, and the warm light from under her drooping eyelids makes my living room bathe in orange.
What I’m trying to tell you is: We had strange weather in Gothenburg today.
