bed. Terrified the whole time, listening for the sound of his car, for the front door of my house. The sheets smelled…I don’t know. But I wanted to stay there. Lie in that smell.
I lay there for just a few minutes, then made the bed exactly the way it had been.
In the afternoon Roland put up the satellite dish. He spent the evening trying to get a picture, but no luck. We played Scrabble. I won.
SEPTEMBER 24
I hate my job, and I hate myself.
I don’t know what got into me today. Out of sheer bloody-mindedness I stopped every single person who was carrying anything. One extra bottle of whisky, a few boxes of Marlboro.Suppressed rage, vicious words directed at me all day. A little old lady weeping, her suitcase full of brandy.
Went into the forest for a few hours when I got home. Grey skies, cold. Went out in a T-shirt but didn’t manage to get really cold. Met an elk. One of the placid ones. He stood there and let me pat him. I wept, pressed my face against his coat. Tried to explain that it was the hunting season, that he should keep away from cleared areas. I don’t think he understood.
Autumn depression, it’s called. As if it were natural to think that life is shit. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to do what I do.
Elisabet called round this evening with the baby. Burbled on. I got even more depressed, but tried not to show it. ‘Melancholy’, that’s what it always says in the Moomintroll books. Never depressed. If only I could be melancholy instead. Have a sorrow that is somehow enjoyable.
I hated Elisabet too. The baby’s sleeping really well at night. Only wakes up twice for a feed, blah blah. Her cheeks are glowing, her eyes shining. One bullet in the middle of her forehead. I’m a bad person.
Vore came to tell me that he’s staying for another week. That’s good. He asked if he could take a photograph of the baby, and Elisabet said yes. She kind of stiffened up. What is it with people?
Roland has managed to sort out the dish, he was gawping at some film. I chatted for a while with Vore after Elisabet had gone. Didn’t get very far. But I don’t hate him. No. Now I come to think of it. I can actually cope with him. I’m thinking about him now. I feel happier. There you go.
He’s travelled all over Sweden, lived in lots of different places for short periods. Travels to Russia sometimes. On business. But he spends most of his time out walking. Collecting insects and looking around. That’s good. That’s what I’d like to do. Nomore poking about, no more talking, just…looking around. Like Snufkin.
Now I’m going to bed. Perhaps I’ll feel better tomorrow.
SEPTEMBER 25
Saturday. My day off.
I’m as good as certain. He’s got a child in there. Or some kind of animal that sounds like a child.
When he’d left I risked checking the cottage again, even though the car was still there. Like me, he goes for long walks.
Nothing.
But this time I did it. I opened the lid of that metal box. I don’t know what I expected to find, but there were definitely insects inside. Or they might all have been flies, I don’t know. Masses of larvae, hundreds, maybe thousands. And a few little ones that had already hatched, crawling around on top of the piles of white larvae. Perhaps I should have found them disgusting, but I didn’t. I thought they were beautiful, somehow.
Felt excited when I left the cottage. I don’t understand myself.
SEPTEMBER 27
Met Vore in the forest yesterday. I think he knows I’ve been in the cottage. He’s started locking the door. (As if I didn’t have a key, ha ha.) But I suppose he’s making a point. It frightened the life out of me when I saw him locking the door as he left. Then I followed him.
Something strange is going on in my head. I hardly pay any attention to what Roland says anymore. Not that he ever says anything important, but we do live together after all. I think he’s going to some show or other this weekend, I don’t know.
I’m
I lay there for just a few minutes, then made the bed exactly the way it had been.
In the afternoon Roland put up the satellite dish. He spent the evening trying to get a picture, but no luck. We played Scrabble. I won.
SEPTEMBER 24
I hate my job, and I hate myself.
I don’t know what got into me today. Out of sheer bloody-mindedness I stopped every single person who was carrying anything. One extra bottle of whisky, a few boxes of Marlboro.Suppressed rage, vicious words directed at me all day. A little old lady weeping, her suitcase full of brandy.
Went into the forest for a few hours when I got home. Grey skies, cold. Went out in a T-shirt but didn’t manage to get really cold. Met an elk. One of the placid ones. He stood there and let me pat him. I wept, pressed my face against his coat. Tried to explain that it was the hunting season, that he should keep away from cleared areas. I don’t think he understood.
Autumn depression, it’s called. As if it were natural to think that life is shit. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to do what I do.
Elisabet called round this evening with the baby. Burbled on. I got even more depressed, but tried not to show it. ‘Melancholy’, that’s what it always says in the Moomintroll books. Never depressed. If only I could be melancholy instead. Have a sorrow that is somehow enjoyable.
I hated Elisabet too. The baby’s sleeping really well at night. Only wakes up twice for a feed, blah blah. Her cheeks are glowing, her eyes shining. One bullet in the middle of her forehead. I’m a bad person.
Vore came to tell me that he’s staying for another week. That’s good. He asked if he could take a photograph of the baby, and Elisabet said yes. She kind of stiffened up. What is it with people?
Roland has managed to sort out the dish, he was gawping at some film. I chatted for a while with Vore after Elisabet had gone. Didn’t get very far. But I don’t hate him. No. Now I come to think of it. I can actually cope with him. I’m thinking about him now. I feel happier. There you go.
He’s travelled all over Sweden, lived in lots of different places for short periods. Travels to Russia sometimes. On business. But he spends most of his time out walking. Collecting insects and looking around. That’s good. That’s what I’d like to do. Nomore poking about, no more talking, just…looking around. Like Snufkin.
Now I’m going to bed. Perhaps I’ll feel better tomorrow.
SEPTEMBER 25
Saturday. My day off.
I’m as good as certain. He’s got a child in there. Or some kind of animal that sounds like a child.
When he’d left I risked checking the cottage again, even though the car was still there. Like me, he goes for long walks.
Nothing.
But this time I did it. I opened the lid of that metal box. I don’t know what I expected to find, but there were definitely insects inside. Or they might all have been flies, I don’t know. Masses of larvae, hundreds, maybe thousands. And a few little ones that had already hatched, crawling around on top of the piles of white larvae. Perhaps I should have found them disgusting, but I didn’t. I thought they were beautiful, somehow.
Felt excited when I left the cottage. I don’t understand myself.
SEPTEMBER 27
Met Vore in the forest yesterday. I think he knows I’ve been in the cottage. He’s started locking the door. (As if I didn’t have a key, ha ha.) But I suppose he’s making a point. It frightened the life out of me when I saw him locking the door as he left. Then I followed him.
Something strange is going on in my head. I hardly pay any attention to what Roland says anymore. Not that he ever says anything important, but we do live together after all. I think he’s going to some show or other this weekend, I don’t know.
I’m
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