The first time I took Johan to Adolf’s house, he left a mark with our names. And my dad’s name. By this time, the house had been empty for 16 years.
I remember stealing red currants from the bushes below this window, once Adolf caught me. He played angry, but I saw he was pretty amused.
The last time I went to his house, in 2010, I left these things as they were. They were too beautiful to touch. Now they burned down together with the rest of the house, so glad I have pictures of so many parts of the house. I sometimes imagine me and Johan living there, far away from everything. It’s good in my imagination, would never work in real life. I’m a city person.
Adolf grew up in this house, together with my grandfather and their 10 siblings. I would love to be able to travel in time and listen to all the crazy stories told around this table.