ABSTRACT
It might have been my first encounter. Going for a walk together in a rather melancholic mood. Early spring, still cold, but a pale sun to warm you up just a little. Deciding, for some reason, to cross Götgatan, leaving behind the robust turn-of-the-nineteenth-century urban fabric, five to six storey buildings, moderately decorated, the streets and proper side-walks. The space we walked into then, just five years ago, does not exist any more. Now we happen to live just across from that entrance point. We can imagine watching our historical selves from the window of our present home passing by just seventy-five meters away.
