came to the bus
in Tuira today.
(smell of beer)
went sitting next
to two old ladies,
(real finnish women)
they started talking
about food, rössy
(grease and blood)
and the picky girl-
friends of their sons
(vegetarian weirdos)
getting soon to_the_
point:
- they (we, I) don't know of things
- they (we, I) weren't here during the wars,
bombings of 1942 and evacuations
- they (we, I) are sending money to Nigeria
(from where the clan chiefs hide fortunes in the Swiss banks,
from where the Shell Oil Company takes what we use in our cars)
the man told about his birth,
during the wars, when they'd
been driving around with a
Taxi from the Tuira-station,
the smell oh h{k{p|ntt|, the
wood burning oven coming from
the car engine (no oil there)
the very last thing being:
- they (we, I) cut down the agriculture in Finland
(from where the blood-rössy and fat-läski comes)
i left the bus here
at the university,
with my papers of
new media studies,
Teletubbies, Nokia,
Sonera and Microsoft
they (him, her) went
on to Kaijonharju, one
of the places here I
living-in-the-center
don't go to.
i feel secure.
they threatened.
they are Finnish.
/me univers-al? (-ity)
walking these corridors
the first encounter
today was first a sound
of traditional singing
and soon the sight of
beautiful young women
dressed in special
Finnish clothing. it is
the Kalevala day today.
---a friend just called, thought that i had tried to call her or something, it was tuesday already when i did for the last time so it was probably a user-technical error or something, anyway:
tomorrow at 2pm at the city library there is more Kalevala activities! they are performing Kalevala Hyde Park or something.
i'm somehow really happy of all these connections (as they (we, I) tend to say: growing glocally)
global and local that is
+ an + ~ ~ : (t . !