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“Thanks for yesterday,” she whispered in Swedish to Harry. In the mirror behind her he saw himself sitting with an idiotic grin on his face.
“When your forest is so dark you don’t know it yourself, it’s wise not to go on trips of discovery. You can soon find yourself treading on thin air.” Harry nodded and sat looking at the flowers in the vase. “Do you believe in chance?” he asked.
Harry’s new life had in fact started there, with the simple exercise of discipline, based on everything having its place, shelf or drawer and being returned there after use. Not so much as a Biro was left out, not a blown fuse in a fuse box. In addition to the practical application there was of course a symbolic significance: rightly or wrongly, he used the level of chaos in his flat as a thermometer for the state of the rest of his life.
