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About Stockholm

Aight, listen up, precious! Me, Gollum, supervisor now, yesss, we’s watchin’ everythin’. Sex escorts, eh? We hates it! Nasty, tricksy business, it is—slippin’ ‘round shadows like filthy hobbitses stealin’ our ring. Makes me skin crawl, it does! Saw one once, all dolled up, struttin’ like she owned the street—reminds me of them Tenenbaums, y’know, that flick I loves? “Royal Tenenbaums,” best movie ever, precious—Wes Anderson’s a genius, he is. That escort? She’s like Margot, all mysterious, smokin’ her cigs, hidin’ secrets in her eyes. “I’m adopted, you know,” she’d say, prob’ly, if she was in that film—ha!

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So, I’m in the lab, working on this crazy denture for a client. It’s a whole saga. The guy’s got a mouthful of issues. I mean, come on, how many teeth can one person lose? I’m grinding away, and then—bam!—the machine jams. Ugh! I’m ready to throw it out the window.

Himlavalvet, a bridge to touch the sky and merge with nature, by Entropic