I was in Stockholm on Friday the Seventh. I was in Stockholm to get the pictures from the exhibition I was part of. I was pretty happy. I went up the rainbow coloured escalator and was pretty happy.
At that moment a truck ran over people in the city centre. At that very moment there was a terror attack not that far from me.
I’m so horrified by what has happened. I don’t know how to handle this. My sister walked for half an hour to get to me, and after that we spent hours trying to find a safe route home to her apartment. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. People told me about shootings and attacks all over the city (none of which turned out to be true – thank god) and nowhere felt safe.
But I was so lucky, because I made it home safe. I’ve spent the weekend with my family. We had baked potatoes. Bought a bouquet of flowers. Had that ceremonial and specific kind of candy we have together every year around the day that my father died.
For me that indescribable loss was eleven years ago. For someone else it’s two days.
I have a hard time figuring out what to do know. But I think we just have to continue.
Stay brave, stay strong and stay united against hate.