Downstream by Sigfrid Siwertz — Read

One warm and calm Saturday evening in July Peter sat alone in his office and examined his books. Round about him Selambshof seemed deserted. Not a single soul had been visible the whole afternoon. But far away from Kolsnäs on the other side of the lake an accordion was heard. They were dancing in a barn and everybody was there.

Peter puffed aloud. He cursed the low, mellow, rich sunshine and the still air in which so many small winged creatures were hovering about! With his massive body he felt alone and helpless. He had often felt so of late. And then there was practically nothing else but the books, the soiled, faded Selambshof books up on the shelf by the fireplace, to busy himself with. But Peter did not look only at the books of the current year, he went back several years. Their soiled columns constituted his excursions into the past, his diaries and memoirs. Here there were entries and totals at which he had always smiled contentedly. In his memory they were associated with all those who had let themselves be cheated by him in one way or another and sometimes he had the feeling of being amongst good and faithful friends. Yes, there are many ways of fighting loneliness in this world.