This was a world where one became outdated before one’s time was up.
An entire country standing up and applauding the fact that no one was capable of doing anything properly anymore.
The unreserved celebration of mediocrity. No one could change tires. Install a dimmer switch.
Lay some tiles. Plaster a wall. File their own taxes.
These were all forms of knowledge that had lost their relevance, and the sorts of things Ove had once spoken of with Rune.
And then Rune went and bought a BMW. Was a person hopeless because he believed there should be some limits?
Ove didn’t think so. And yes, he didn’t exactly remember how that argument with Rune had started.
But it had continued. It had been about radiators and central heating systems and parking slots
and trees that had to be felled and snow clearance and lawn mowers and rat poison in Rune’s pond.
For more than thirty-five years they had paced about on their identical patios behind their identical houses,
while throwing meaningful glares over the fence. And then one day about a year ago it all came to an end.
Rune became ill. Never came out of the house anymore. Ove didn’t even know if he still had the BMW.
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