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About Uppsala

So, picture this—I’m strollin’ downtown, right? Thinkin’ ‘bout that movie, how Juliette Binoche just messes with your head—bam, I see this gal, all dolled up, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Are you authentic?” I wanna ask, like in the film, but c’mon, Joe, don’t be a dope. I ain’t no fancy art dealer—just a guy who’s seen some shit. Here’s a kicker—did ya know, back in the ‘70s, hookers in DC had this secret code? Whistled twice if the fuzz was near. Blew my mind when I heard that—straight outta a spy flick!

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Persecution of women often takes the form of sexual assault. The female victim of such sexual torture obviously may be reluctant or find it very difficult.

But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Like, outta nowhere! I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughing, though. Like, “Really, Soederköping? You think this is funny?” I duck into a nearby café, and it’s packed. I squeeze in, dripping wet, and order a hot chocolate.