SWINGERS

They dont look at each other when they fuck, Ern and his wife from Sweden, the blonde Maln. They share this not looking like othercouples share thoughts, beds, colds. Maln peeks at a painting of the Swedish king when he still had his good hair while Ern pounds away as if anything depended on it. Just in case this moment turned into history or something. He looks at the photo of a Vietnamese woman standing in a pad without expression, or if thats not possible, without discernible expression. Or perhaps its just that damned abyss of being that stops us from seeing anyone else but images of ourselves, our image repeated in everyone around us forever. Ern also keeps his socks on at all times, even when he takes a bath. Maln is afraid to ask about the woman in the feld. She really does care about Ern. She feels that Ern has known the other woman and would prefer her to Malns more austere demeanor.
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Maln is like a birch, pale and bendy. The other one is like a grain of rice, petite and fertile. But whatever acrobatics Ern and Maln perform and they are as good at it as if they were circus artists, as any connoisseur will tell you she must gaze at Carl XVI Gustaf and he must gaze at the woman whose real name is Bich Lien Truong Thi, and none of the four knows where their inebriant routine will lead, this love that is sandwiched between obsession and obscurity.

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