I was running around a rainy neighbourhood of Swedish attached houses, looking for an elevator down. As I found one and got in, Zlatan was there as well. He shook my hand and proudly showed me a bottle of his new eau de toilette. He sprayed my wrists and I told him that it smelled very fresh. I was wearing a cool white hoodie and my pulled up jeans fitness trousers and felt very cool and ready to dance.
"Yes!! Freshhhhh", he said. I got out of the elevator and accompanied my sister, Julia, to her audition, trying to help her find the right place. I think she was a young, dark-skinned boy at first. I found her reception and it seemed like she'd made it just in time to look at the lists and get assigned a group. There was a Julia on the lists already and she was sure it was her, but it turned out that was another person. They got into their groups and started learning a choreography. She was so small! Maybe five or six years old. I was hoping that there would be a part for me as well, in my cool dancer-like clothes.
A guy working there wasn't impressed with me having met Zlatan and started making fun of him. Then he started making fun of his colleague who was smoking under the indoors smoking fan, as if he smoked just because they had that.
I met a sad, insecure looking guy at a table. I asked what he was doing and he said he was going to entertain as a clown at a party. I got excited, he got excited, and later he came up to me and thanked me as he had had trouble mustering up the courage to go do his job, until I came by.
There was a group of people with me now and we were going somewhere together. I wanted something sweet to bring along and eat on the way, so I stopped by a Lidl and was overwhelmed by the huge and scrumptious looking pastries they had. I explained to someone nearby that the brits indeed knew how to make the best pastries, but since I didn't want to overindulge, I bought half a raspberry donut and a fourth of an old chocolate donut. I was asked if I was going to eat them today and when answering positively, had them served on a plate. I had intended to bring them along, but they misunderstood and so I had to sit down and eat them in the Lidl shop. They were stale and tasteless.
Somewhere else in the shopping centre a Middle Eastern looking guy was making some sort of healthy and semi-sweet waffle for his family. As he took it out of the oven he invited me to have a piece and then one more. I tried accepting just one piece and it was lovely. Newly baked and just a little sweet. I asked for the recipe and he explained it to me. As I left I felt I wished I had a natural way of having him as a friend in my life, thinking that I mostly had white friends.
I also thought about the clown from before and how it would be nice to keep in contact with him. Then I found skiing videos and photo's of him and his girlfriend on my Instagram. Turned out that we'd been skiing together ages ago but never really socialised, though I'd gotten his insta handle and tagged him in it. I forwarded it to him writing something in the style of "look what I found!", feeling very pleased (and amazed).
I was on that skiing trip and me, Martin and Gus has collided and skis were scattered everywhere. Martin sorted out who's skis were who's and we went down the slope. I was feeling very confident and went along incredibly well, going on to jump over obstacles with high speed and ferocity. Then I decided to do a 360 and jumped so high that I got tangled in a tree and fell down. But I still felt like I could do that 360 if the tree hadn't been there and that felt great.
I returned the skis and they asked my friends to stay outside so as to not have too many people who weren't customers in the shop. Mum had rented them for me and they looked slim and professional. The skis, not my friends.
I met Sofia Sörensen as I was trying to take a photo of a nice arrangement of flowers that might have been a cake, and asked her to hold them up and pose with them. That was not her thing and she started making silly faces, where I had hoped it would somehow flatter her. Her bestie, Sara, quickly joined her and I got some incredibly weird looking photos of them where it looked like Sofia had three eyes because she was half-covered with Sara's face.
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