Gösta prowls the streets

Gösta admires the rusty railtrack.

Gösta's burning city.

Gösta still mourns the closing down of Sirpan herkku puoti at Kaskisgatan. One summer a thousand years ago, Gösta was drinking coffee & eating fresh doughnuts at Sirpa's, and reading Dostoyevsky, Crime & Punishment. Every day. Gösta misses a lot of things. Gösta misses the view of people crawling on their knees in & out of Päiväkoti. Gösta wants to smash the windows of fancy cafes and boutiques. Gösta sees the city being taken over by yuppie-wannabees. Gösta does not wish the time to stop, but Gösta does not like the prospect of a city transformed into Business Brands & Business Opportunities.

Turku - European capital of culture in 2011. Who gives a shit? Not Gösta. Gösta's city is a sun-drenched glade and some grafitti.

Gösta sits quiet-quiet, watching the birds. From a boombox, Max Romeo's "Chase the Devil" is blaring. Gösta puts on an iron shirt/chases Satan out of earth.

Gösta curls up in the grass like a cat. Or a wino. Gösta falls asleep to the sound of heavy-breathing joggers & flowing water.

Gösta walks up & down the hazy street.

Gösta looks at the reflections.

Gösta watches dark secrets drown in the river. Gösta listens in on shady drama & dirty intentions. Gösta's ear is wide-open.

It's 4 a.m. It's the middle of the week. Work-day tomorrow? Fuck, yeah. Gösta drinks beer from a coctail glass and enjoys life. Cheers.