Midsummer

Blueberry Hill, Mörlunda, Småland, Sweden. The morning after Midsummer's Eve. The flowers of the Midsummer Pole are fading. All people are still sleeping heavily after the celebration. Soon they will wake with hangover, regretting a night of eating, drinking, dancing and fornication. Or regretting not taking part in the fornication. They will take solemn and terrible blood oats never to drink schnapps again. At least not in combination with beer and pickled herring. Or at least never eat herring again. At least not the next few days...