Solivagant

The pavement was like any other, black. Sand blended with dirt could be seen strewn on the surface. Strolling along its path, George, with his hands inside his pockets, noticed a kiwi smashed well into the rocky asphalt leaving a distinct green color alongside black seeds. The sun had done a good job in drying it. A sign that not too many people walked this seemingly lone way.

The weather that day was kind of special for this time of the year, cloudy yet dim enough for the sun to push through an opaque sunshine. It was appropriate enough for the surroundings which were still under the white frosty mantle that covered the trees and over the wide open landscape there was plenty of snow but the temperatures were mildly warm.

As George kept walking, marked by a decisive pace, the university buildings began to come into view. He turned his head towards Stockholm’s university library which has a certain association with light and mobile naval architecture. George contemplated the silver shine that the metal roof gave, he came to think of the inspiration the architect Ralph Erskine must of had, thinking that perhaps the Scandinavian soul is more acclimatized to winter, summer being so short here in Sweden.

“Yes, that must be it”, he thought, as he kept a steady pace towards the computer room, “the surroundings adapt quite well to this type of weather ….”