'It is like in my youth,' the taxi driver says. 'This much snow and ice we haven't seen in 23 years.'
Stockholm is blazing in white. Ships, cars and bicycles, as well as governmental buildings, castels and houses, are covered underneath a thick layer of white crystals that keep coming from the sky like the frosty tears of an abandoned bride.
Sculptures of Nikki de St Phalle, Tinguely and Alexander Calder hide their secrets of abundance quiet in front of the museum of Modern Art. Picasso's 'Dejeuner à l'herbe' vanishes grey in white. All one hears is the cracking of gravel underneath the warm shoed feet of bypassers. 'Hey', they greet one another. Some walk quick with a purpose. Others stay in awe of nature's presence in the Swedish capital.
The water between the isles is frozen. You can almost walk across the see from Skeppsholmen to Djurgarden. Almost...
'Come back in summer,' the taxi driver adds. 'She will be dressed in green. The most beautiful city on earth, if you ask me.'