He told me how lucky I was. He told me how really, really lucky I was. That I was here and not somewhere else. And he told me the odds. The outstanding, freaking odds that I should be right here, right now. In a way it scared me, I mean no-one’s thrilled by killing odds. But also in a way I didn’t care. Odds doesn’t mean a freaking thing in my world.
    I think odds can put people down. If you’re born with good odds you’ll have nothing but the odds in your head. What’s the odds of you not suceeding? What’s the odds of ever failing? Almost nothing. And that’s when they hit. The odds. When you leats expect them. On the other hand if you have bad odds,no-one ever expects you to get anywhere. C’mon really, what’s the odds? Finally, you don’t either.
    So odds, they don’t mean a freaking thing.

A police car swings by. It looks to be in some kind of military stealth mode, because its lights are off, it it almost crawls.
    - Hey, one of the cops says.
    I nod and keep walking.
    - Hello?
    - Hi, I say. It’s in the middle of the night. Perhaps the cops usually conversate with the people they meet during the night here in Ronneby.
    The car pulls up on the side walk and blocks my way. One of the cops jumps up with a flash light, and it’s all in my face.
    - Where you going?
    - Home.
    - Do you have some id?
    - Id?
    - Yeah, an id card.
    - Sure. Something wrong, I ask as he watches my id card.
    - No. Just that you’re dressed in black. It’s rather late, and you have a camera. You looked suspicious. It’s ok, you can go home and sleep now.
    - Thanks.
    In the end I never got it straight. What really was so suspicious about me walking the street. And perhaps its not even that important.

Stockholm is the same.
    - It’s really winter now, ya’know mirash says on the phone. And it is. It’s always good to return to a city after been living in a small town. I just go around the central station scanning people. It’s like a long intro to a Spike movie, only the screen’s in Stockholm instead of New York. And I’m afflicted by it, in a thousand positive and negative ways. I really wouldn't want it any other way. Simply negative or positive feeling, I would have been overwhelmed by the odds. And after all misery is what makes happiness.
    I’m a bit surprised that I’m one of the few of my friends who really feel for this country.

Out on the street we're having a hell getting into clubs. They either require members card, that you're 23, that you're rich, or a girl. We're niether. So we're outside.
    - Fuck this country! Hal shouts after one of our last tries. They're fucking immigrants and they won't let in immigrants.
    - It has nothing to do with it, they want girls, someone says.
    - They want money.
    We could have kept arguing about it all night. Instead we ended up at a place. In my eyes it could remain nameless. Hal and Marc left within an hour, and Tom, mirash and I remained talking. We talk about everything and nothing, when a girl approaches to ask Tom to dance.
    He returns already after a minute, with a cigarette in his hands. But it's not that good.
    - I never thought this would happen, but she's actually too drunk.
    Mirash and I are falling of our chairs laughing. Usually Tom is the too drunk one, the opposite is hard to imagine.
    She comes and sits down among us, and it's so tight. No one knows what to say. Finally Tom stretches for his cigaettes and we both laugh.
    She rises and leaves offended forgetting her Malbaroughs.
    She's sitting alone at another table as I come with her smoke.
    - You forgot these.
    - No, I didn't.
    - Hey, we didn't laugh at you back there.
    - Sure, you didn't.
    - Are you here alone?
    - What do you care?
    - Just think someone should follow you home.
    - Dance with me.
    - Not right now.
    - No, I know. Later, right? She rises and leaves.

I wonder about the odds. What was the odds of her getting here. I recall the incident at the toilet at the central station, and the odds. It drives you furious, with all these odds around you. When you know you can't do a sinlge thing about them.