It’s fascinating to watch everyone pass by. I’m sitting at a juice bar that recently opened in Örebro. With their wooden benches, concrete table tops and rough walls, small lemon trees here and there and the fact that I was served by a pale guy with mustache, hair bun and lots of tattoos, it is a sign as good as any that the hipsters are taking over the city. Resistance is futile. Not that I mind. Hipsters make great juice, it seems. And I’m sitting in the window, spying on people walking by. Young women with baby carriages, and old woman with a walker, a group of teenage kids with balloons (?), not one of them missing to check out their reflection in the window, a middleaged man with a small child sleeping in his arms, a beggar walking to his spot with a coffee cup in his hand et cetera. If I wanted to, I could make some sort of pretentious metaphor of it, like me sitting in here looking while life walks by a thousand times, in a thousand ages and a thousand more sets of circumstances. But for today I’d rather just drink my juice (avocado, banana and spinage I think - surprisingly good) and listen to the music while the owners talk about whether they’ll wash the windows or not.