Jette knocks back her coffee.
Things are going well for Linda, Jette says.
Minna’s tongue feels cold as bronze.
Minna’s body starts shutting down.
The face chilly.
The heart pounding.
The larynx a clenched fist.
Nothing comes out.
Jette asks, How’s Lars, really?
Minna’s fingers tighten around her coffee.
Jette asks, Do you still see each other?
Minna has sat down but can’t remain sitting.
Minna gets up and hops around a bit.
Minna has to pee.
Minna has to go to the john twice a day on average when she’s at the Royal Library.
Minna wants to tell someone about her broken heart.
Minna feels pain in the solar plexus of her soul.
Minna needs a hot-water bottle.
Finn answers the phone.
Finn wants to chat.
Finn’s a birdwatcher.
Finn’s seen a bittern.
Finn knows where the nightingale lives.
Minna asks for Mom.
Mom comes to the phone.
Mom’s glad to hear from her.
Minna’s just about to cry, but
Mom and Finn have been to the Skaw.
Mom and Finn saw someone famous in a car.
Mom and Finn took a hike on Grenen.
The wind was blowing sand.
The sand got into everything.
Mom says that she misses Minna.
Mom feels like it’s been a long time.
The clump in Minna’s throat gets bigger.
The clump’s a doorstop.
Minna can’t say anything.
Mom goes quiet on the other end.
Mom and Minna are quiet together.
Minna whispers that she’ll definitely come visit.
It won’t be long, Minna says.
Mom says that of course they could come to Copenhagen.
Time’s one thing we’ve got plenty of.
Minna doesn’t like that Mom says we.
Minna says they’d be very welcome.
Minna says we should go to Copenhagen, Mom says.
Finn’s indistinct in the background.
Mom laughs.
Mom tells her about the geraniums.
The geraniums are thriving in the east-facing windows.
The geraniums have an acrid scent in the sun.
The geraniums get photographed.
The geraniums get posted on the web.
Minna should go in and see.
Minna promises to look at Mom’s blog.
Minna keeps her promise.
Mom’s blog is kept rose pink.
Mom’s blog is mostly photos, but
Text sneaks its way in between the geraniums.
Mom’s written about her daughters on the blog.
The daughters live far away in Copenhagen.
The elder one’s married to an optician.
The younger is unwed.
Mom isn’t a grandma.
You can’t get everything you wish for, Mom writes.
Minna stares at the text.
The text is more intimate than Mom’s Christmas letter to the family.
The text is more naked than Minna’s seen Mom in reality.
Nobody really reads it anyhow, Mom must’ve thought.
Somebody might read it by accident, Mom must’ve thought.
Both thoughts had appealed.
It started small.
It began as a lift of the skirt.
It took root gradually.
The web’s become a diary for Mom.
Mom starts to versify.
Mom writes haiku.
Mom lets it all hang out.
The geraniums are pink and demure, but
Mom’s stark naked.
Minna hastens to shut it off.
Minna considers calling up the Senior Club.
The Senior Club ought to explain the gravity to seniors.
The web’s a jungle.
The jungle’s full of monkeys.
Monkeys love the excrement of others.
Lars has had Linda on the front page.
Elisabeth’s been in the Bookstore of the Unknown.
Jette sits on the quay.
Mom’s on the web too often.
Dad’s dead.
Lars has fur on his face, but
Lars’s fur isn’t quite like Minna’s.
Minna’s fur is a metaphor.
Lars’s fur is real.
Minna’s studied portraits.
Lars and Dad have a beard in common, but
Lars smelled of Aqua Velva.
Dad of salt.
Minna’s looked at the map of Denmark.
Aarhus nestles in Marselisborg Forest.
Amager’s on the other end of the country, or
Amager’s in the middle of the country, or
Amager in any case is quiet for a brief moment.
The quiet makes room.
The quiet makes a dome over a moment’s clarity.
The clarity lays bare a person.
The person is Minna herself.
Minna hasn’t seen her own person for a long time.
Minna’s person has split ends.
Minna’s person has bags.
The person’s hand trembles quietly.
The person’s mouth hangs open.
Minna can hear a faint hum.
Minna thinks, I used to sing …
Minna gives herself the once-over.
Minna benefits from the examination.
Time now for a little holiday.
Other people aren’t to join the holiday.
Minna hasn’t been to Bornholm since she was fourteen.
Bornholm’s almost Sweden.
Bornholm’s in the opposite direction.
Bornholm’s an island.
Bornholm’s well suited to mental catharsis.
Lars will be forgotten.
The family’ll have to take care of itself.
The family can take care of itself.
Minna orders a ticket to Ystad.
Minna wants to develop the ability to sort people.
Minna wants an asshole filter.
Minna no longer wants to be a host species.
Minna takes Bergman along.
Bergman can ride in the backpack.
Minna’s sitting on the train to Ystad.
Minna’s feeling chipper.
Minna’s running away from it all.
Minna’s breaking from the pack.
The pack is evil.
Minna doesn’t want to be part of them.
Minna also feels melancholy.
Minna was sure it was something you grew out of.
Minna thought as a kid, As soon as I grow up, but
Grown-ups are kids who have lots to hide.
Dumb kids turn into dumb grown-ups.
Evil kids = evil grown-ups.
Minna gets the connection.
Minna walks around among ordinary people.
Ordinary people cheat on their taxes.
Ordinary people go to swinger clubs.
Ordinary people flee the scene of the crime.
Ordinary people enlist in the Nordland Regiment of the SS.
Ordinary people are quislings, collaborators, camp followers.
Ordinary people just need a stage.
The pig performs gladly.
Cowards are in good supply too.
Minna doesn’t get how she could have ignored it.
Minna’s clear-sighted enough.
Minna’s watched TV.
Minna followed the war in the Balkans.
Minna watched neighbors out each other to Serbian militias.
One day you’re tending cabbage together in the backyard.
The next you’re on a bus headed for a mass grave.
Your best friend’s a chameleon.
Evil’s a state that can be conjured up.
Evil exists.
Minna supposes she’s tarred with the same brush.
Karin isn’t exactly without stain either.
Elisabeth is family.
Lars could’ve been.
Minna realizes that it’s all about sorting.