Happstavägen

At Happstavägen in Alunda, the vanity of life is crystallized with particular clarity. Here, in this seemingly insignificant nothingness, people gather in silent hope, unaware that every movement forward is only a sham movement in the eternal cycle of suffering.nnHappstavägen — a name that promises movement, perhaps even happiness — is nothing more than a quiet pause in the endless landscape of meaninglessness. The bus that arrives brings us no closer to any rescue; it only transports us between different forms of the same torment. We stand there in the wind, with faces marked by weary habit, waiting—not for a recovery, but for the next distraction that temporarily hides the empty gap of the abyss.