Along the highway, somewhere inbetween, maybe even after the highcoast of Norrland, a late summersday in the beginning of a descending decenium, we stumbled upon a old white church, scared and teared on the frontage by the seasons. Close to the sparsely-populated area of Bygdsiljum, where we decided to take a break, stretch our legs after hours driving in a stuffy rental car all morning.
Cafe Americana from a gasstation, some breadloaf, cigarettes, Linus got him self some cigars, non branded. This concept was dead, or atleast moldened, we had this feeling in our guts


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