I get onto the subway train at Liljeholmen. It’s seven on a Friday evening. I’ve finished my shift at the store and I’m heading home. The train is filled but there are still a lot of free seats. I sit down at a four-seater, diagonally across from a young man. We’re the only two sitting there.
I glance over to the young man. It is mid-June, summer in Stockholm, and he’s dressed in a pair of loose khakis, a short sleeve shirt, and sandals. He’s slim, clean-shaven, balding, and is wearing wire-rimmed glasses.
The young man is holding a square of folded newspaper in one hand, and in the other hand, a squat yellow pencil. From where I’m sitting I can see that it’s one of those number grid puzzles.
I’m impressed by how he has folded the newspaper. The square is around 10cmx10cm, fits easily into his palm, and has a narrow border of white space around the grid, which I assume is either for rough work or because it’s pleasing to his eye.
The back of the square is also impressive. It’s clear that he hasn’t cut or torn the puzzle out of the newspaper, but, instead, has folded the sheet into itself, like a piece of origami, without any of its edges showing. I imagine that this method also provides a degree of padding while he’s writing.
I shift my eyes to the seat beside the young man. There’s a plastic carrier bag on it – from the top of the bag, I make out a five-kilogram sack of basmati rice. The rice sack has a built-in handle, so a carrier bag seems unnecessary. It’s possible, however, that he finds the carrier bag’s handles more comfortable.
I return to the young man. I notice that he’s not actually writing on his square. Instead his pencil hovers over the empty grid. I see from the movements on his lips that he’s doing calculations.
The train stops at Mariatorget. The driver announces that there has been a problem on another train, and, soon thereafter, a throng of passengers pile onto our train. I spot a harried-looking mother and her son. I get up, and offer them my seat. The young man moves his rice sack, and lays it flat on his lap.
A minute later, I get off at Slussen to change trains. I watch the young man through the window as the train pulls away. It looks like he’s started writing.
I glance over to the young man. It is mid-June, summer in Stockholm, and he’s dressed in a pair of loose khakis, a short sleeve shirt, and sandals. He’s slim, clean-shaven, balding, and is wearing wire-rimmed glasses.
The young man is holding a square of folded newspaper in one hand, and in the other hand, a squat yellow pencil. From where I’m sitting I can see that it’s one of those number grid puzzles.
I’m impressed by how he has folded the newspaper. The square is around 10cmx10cm, fits easily into his palm, and has a narrow border of white space around the grid, which I assume is either for rough work or because it’s pleasing to his eye.
The back of the square is also impressive. It’s clear that he hasn’t cut or torn the puzzle out of the newspaper, but, instead, has folded the sheet into itself, like a piece of origami, without any of its edges showing. I imagine that this method also provides a degree of padding while he’s writing.
I shift my eyes to the seat beside the young man. There’s a plastic carrier bag on it – from the top of the bag, I make out a five-kilogram sack of basmati rice. The rice sack has a built-in handle, so a carrier bag seems unnecessary. It’s possible, however, that he finds the carrier bag’s handles more comfortable.
I return to the young man. I notice that he’s not actually writing on his square. Instead his pencil hovers over the empty grid. I see from the movements on his lips that he’s doing calculations.
The train stops at Mariatorget. The driver announces that there has been a problem on another train, and, soon thereafter, a throng of passengers pile onto our train. I spot a harried-looking mother and her son. I get up, and offer them my seat. The young man moves his rice sack, and lays it flat on his lap.
A minute later, I get off at Slussen to change trains. I watch the young man through the window as the train pulls away. It looks like he’s started writing.