Right Now, Tuva Luva Love Is Watching Herself Sleep in Umeå
At 14:40 the window is already dark, the first snow is coming down wet, and a vlogger is playing back the seven hours she missed.
The window has gone the colour of dishwater. First snow, heavy and wet, slides off the sill. Tuva Luva Love sits on the floor with her laptop on a pouffe and watches herself sleep.
Last night's file runs seven hours and ten minutes. She plays it at normal speed. At 02:12 she turns over. At 03:50 she says a word that might be ferry. Each time she leans a little closer to the screen.
I understand it. Those hours were hers and she was not there. Most of us lose them without noticing. She has them back, slightly grainy, with a radiator ticking in the background.
On screen she pulls the duvet up to her chin. On the floor she does the same.
Eleven minutes in, she pauses to fix the lighting.