So this is Arturo Rhodes, a surrealist painter I met in Spain. He used to live in London during the swinging sixties, talking in this wonderfully fermented British accent; frequently using words like “groovy” and “psychedelic”. His voice had this dark resonance, sounding unbelievably friendly. He told me he had stayed in Stockholm for a while, way back in the 80s. He lived there with his former girlfriend on Birger Jarlsgatan. He was hoping to visit her again sometime. I insisted that we should visit Gröna Lund, if we ever got the chance.
Then he told me about this recurring dream, always ending with a black rectangle. By then we were rather drunk, so it’s all a bit fuzzy. But it had something to do with Kierkegaard, I believe. Very groovy indeed, Mr. Rhodes.