STRONG rocks hold up the riksdag bridge … always strong river waters shoving their shoulders against them …
In the riksdag to-night three hundred men are talking to each other about more potatoes and bread for the Swedish people to eat this winter.
In a boat among calm waters next to the running waters a fisherman sits in the dark and I, leaning at a parapet, see him lift a net and let it down … he waits … the waters run … the riksdag talks … he lifts the net and lets it down …
Stars lost in the sky ten days of drizzle spread over the sky saying yes-yes.
Every afternoon at four o’clock fifteen apple women who have sold their apples in Christiania meet at a coffee house and gab.
Every morning at nine o’clock a girl wipes the windows of a hotel across the street from the post-office in Stockholm.
I have pledged them when I go to California next summer and see the orange groves splattered with yellow balls
I shall remember other people half way round the world.
