Chilly morning air is streaming in through the open balcony door and I'm scrolling through my Facebook feed lazily while a man in work gear is stretched out on my floor, muttering to himself.
I'm sitting in a chair with blood flowing out of my arm into a little bag, while I'm laughing at a girl practicing Swedish phrases: "Jag ska byta din blöja!" ('I am here to change your diaper!')
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