Strange World of Elderly People by Tassaduq Sohail, Image Courtesy: ArtChowk Gallery
By Simon Fruelund
Translated from Danish by K.E. Semmel
He’s bought himself a moped, and every morning he travels across the hilly countryside, through the local villages and along the endless stretch of villas before reaching the train station in Kalundborg.
He’s fifty-three and getting a divorce.
He’s staying in his family’s summer cottage on the Røsnæs peninsula and has stayed there since October.
He’s chopped three cords of wood.
He’s established an Internet connection and downloaded more than five hours of porn.
An old lover came to see him.
They ate flounder and fucked and drank three bottles of wine, and since then he’s had no desire to see her.
He’s the one who wants the divorce.
He’s had five affairs in eight years, and when he told his wife about them, she said:
—And your point is?
He knows the other commuters by sight.
Some of them nod when they see him.
There’s the shorthaired woman with her brisk stride and gray leather jacket.
There’s the sixty year old man wearing Docksides and a down jacket.
There’s the small woman with the dark curly hair.
There’s the woman who’s always reading.
There are around thirty of them in all.
And then the outliers: This morning, a short, muscular man with an intense stare and an army-green backpack, a young girl with disheveled hair and smeared mascara.
It turned out that his wife had been fucking his best friend and his boss.
—Out of boredom, as she said.
