An extreme amount of snow had fallen. The terrace that was built last summer normally floated about 50 cm above the garden, but had now turned into a hollow space in a deck of snow. A fire was made in one of the exposed snow edges. Despite the extreme perilous cold, Hållsta created a warming place of homogeneity. By the fire on the terrace it was cozy, warm and safe, something from there would cause the extreme cold immediately to freeze the body.
His tension had changed from periodical to constant. His breathing was high, and even the nights no longer brought the necessary relaxation. It had become impossible to function normally, and that is why he temporarily stopped everything. And then he experienced something he had not experienced before. The safety of peace and quietness. His children had been transformed from source of unrest to reason of existence, to sociability and affection.
The crackling trumpets played a dangerous quarter stack. His father sighed beside him in the gallery that this was really not beautiful. The drummer gave extra gas and the pianist seemed to be looking for the dissonants. And yet there was the beauty of the melody, of the ensemble. The warmth of the harmony thawed the icy quarters. From total rhythmic tension to the warmth of a beautifully played melody. Hållsta Suite.