Once again, I find myself awake at an unearthly hour.

I am done for. Svenska är slut, eller, historian är i alla fall. Ingenting är konstant.

A  job, a job, a job. Yours, mine and the rest of it. It all comes down to work and none of us, nethier you, or I, or they, can escape.

We are running out of time.

Snow falls.

The beauty of idealism.

All things are multifaceted.

I love you, I miss you, goodnight.