This story.
Tiny beads of narrative that string together to form a rosary.
The notes and the memories. The two Oskar Johanssons. One a genuine former rock blaster who spent his summers living in an old sauna. The other an Oskar Johansson who becomes a part of a story. But both of them died one day, of a brain haemorrhage.
This account is an attempt to piece together what Oskar never actually said. To try to describe what caused the changes in him.
There are a few key words.
“I played the same games as all the others.”
“I obviously went on working as a blaster, as soon as I’d recovered.”
“I’ve been a worker all my life.”
“Lots of things have changed, but not for us.”