Angel

Angel is my favourite cartoon.

She didn’t find strange at all to punch me the first time we met. After realizing that we both were Svenska fans, nothing was strange at all.

When you make her laugh, she puts her hand on her mouth. How couldn’t she! Then she stares at you accusingly, as if you shouldn’t do that (you could earn a punch of her strong fist). But it is easy to make her laugh, actually. She will laugh chirping like a bird, bubbling like a child, gleaming like the sun. Laughing is her natural state.

She has the ability to bump into you wherever you are. It doesn’t matter if it’s Bilbao or Stockholm. She will find you, one way or another. And then jump and celebrate the cosmic moment.

Angel has a powerful sad face. If you say something cruel, her eyes will shift into such a miserable shape that you can’t help trying to reach her and tell her everything will be fine. She gets anxious easily. But she can also feel excited in seconds, even almost cry of happiness. It’s hard not to follow her then.

She has taught me useful things. Such as apir, kaibigan, or, most importantly, bangkay. She does not like beer, but she does like cider, especially päron cider, especially when it comes out of Systembolaget bags, which surprisingly enough can travel all the way down from Sweden to Indautxu’s metro station.

Angel loves to keep her moments safe. She records her life and looks ahead towards her dream. She dreams of sweet, boring Swedes, of the beautiful streets of Stockholm, where she left her soul. She will leave soon. But it doesn’t matter.

Angel is my favourite cartoon.