I go shopping to buy clothes for work. I spent last summer in flip flops wandering around the library, so I feel sorry for my closet. What’s that supposed to be put to work? I think I want to be cute, but not looking like a slut. Arregalada reasonably, but not ridiculously overdressed. The clothes this season is horrible. Everything is pale pink, beige, pale blue or coral color. Everything has a bunch of flowers and printed kind grandmother. What type flowers is not a sailor and, last but not least, someone has decided that it is time to return the denim jacket.

I wander through the mall like a drifting ship laden with bags. In some stores it’s cold, too hot in others, and I walk through the shelves eyes and I can not compute so many possibilities to cover her fabrics, I like isolated pieces, but I do not know if I can combine with each other, let alone add belts , earrings and bracelets to match. Curiously investigate women who are around me and watch how they combine the clothes that I think are well dressed. I like heels. I enjoy seeing them and I like wearing them, but my feet hurt, and though almost never really take not clash with my friends hippies. I like the scarves of color, but never occurs to me how it could bring. I like the dresses.

Of all the clothes I’ve been clearly convinces me only one shirt. The rest I find it difficult to combine or not to stay ends well, but I’ll take it if I change my mind when I get home. I bought a red dress of these you know it you can put into life, because there will be no occasion arranged but informal enough and, above all, red enough to wear it. I do not care, because I am divine, I look like Audrey Hepburn but less blonde and skinny, and I guess with my white high heels and my red dress and I think I can not leave the store, so alone.

Then I sit in a bar in the mall and I drink a Coke. Outside it’s raining, I brought the bike and I have to kill time until it stops raining, so I read a while Henning Mankell well guarded keep my bags between your feet. Henning Mankell read is like having a colleague in Sweden and go to see him from time to time. Everything you find it strange and familiar at the same time: the hostile climate, the Swedes who tutean, the density of population of a Swedish per hundred square kilometers. I think I like doing things alone. I like to buy one and drink alone. Not that I mind, is that I like, I enjoy my own company as if I were someone else incredibly intelligent and passionately that I have fun with the chance to hang out. Sometimes I wonder if my problem in life is not going to be to find a guy who loves me as much as I love myself, and I do not know if that is great or terrible.

In the end it stops raining, and I leave it to Kurt Wallander in southern Sweden and I head to the bike with my bags. I’m thinking about my red dress shirt and what would stick with my new black pants type Thai. I think that tomorrow I will probably reverse shopping session, namely: wandering through the shops returning everything I bought and I’m not going to like when I try it again. The evening air is damp and cold, but the sky has cleared up quickly and framed in dark blue silhouette of the buildings. I get home ice cold and leave the bags on the floor.

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