Divine Silence in a Vintage Shop in Stockholm

Divine Silence in a Vintage Shop in Stockholm


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It was fascinating. Even now, looking back, I still can’t find a word that properly describes that shop.

When I was standing in the middle of it, stopping every few feet because there was something else to stare at, one thought suddenly occurred to me: this, for me, is the ’Divine Silence‘ Dmitry Krymov means.

I simply couldn’t categorise it.

Yes, the title of this post calls it a vintage shop, because that’s what it said outside. But it wasn’t a typical vintage shop of the kind you find everywhere. Second-hand, yes. Vintage, yes. But with clothes, hair accessories and hats unlike anything I’d seen in any other shop before. It felt less like browsing vintage clothing and more like looking through my great-grandmother’s or grandmother’s wardrobe. Lots of 1940s and 1950s, with some 1960s as well.

And then there were military bags. Actual bags carried by soldiers. I don’t know enough about militaria to say whether they were from the same period or perhaps mostly post-war. And they weren’t just Swedish. There were bags from ten, fifteen different countries, each labelled on a little tag: Norway, the USSR, Turkey, Germany, Finland, the UK, and so on.

In another room: old tin boxes. Lots and lots of old photographs from around the turn of the twentieth century. Crockery. And more and more.

Perhaps the easiest way to describe it would be as a flea market — not one stall, but several next to each other.
Except… that isn’t quite right either.

As I said: words don’t really do it justice.

What I actually saw in my mind while standing there was a ’Wimmelbild’.

I’m deliberately keeping the German word here, because I’m not sure there’s an English one that quite does the same job.
A ‘Wimmelbild’ is usually a highly detailed illustrated picture crammed with tiny, different things — the kind you can look at for half an hour and still keep finding something new or unexpected.

And that made me think: yes. That is actually quite close to what I would like to do as a playwright:

A ’Wimmelbild’.

Not one that overwhelms an audience, but one you can look at for a long time. And return to. One that keeps revealing something new. Or something unexpected.

Quite an ambition, admittedly.
But hey. You should always have wishes and dreams.


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This is what I want to stand for as a playwright

This is what I want to stand for as a playwright

💆I want to write plays that last longer than the performance itself. That really stays with people. To make an audience stop and think. To consider something they might not have considered before. To become more aware of their own way of seeing. ❓Why does every tension have to be released? I like open endings. Though I think I’d rather call them ‘sudden endings’. I don’t want to deny the audience catharsis. 💁‍♀️I just don’t want to hand them a ready-made one on a silver platter. They’r


Petra Tabarelli

Petra Tabarelli