May 7, 2013: I've parked at the rest area at Bosarps jär. I go from there to the northern part of the ridge. Inside the forest, on the eastern side of the ridge is an abandoned wooden house. Lyran valley is it called as far as I know. Once a dance hall, until the 1960s, I have read. All I know about it. Now it is desolate and abandoned. A little scary. Outside stands a leaning flagpole and a streetlight. The windows are broken, the door is ajar. Opens the door gently, what's in there? The first thing I see is a dilapidated organ of the brand Östlind Almquist. It was probably a long time since anyone played on it. Inside is a dance hall. The walls are filled with graffiti. To the left of the entrance has one probably been sitting at the table, offer/ been asked to dance. Up ahead is a small stage, next to a door with a naked woman. Opposite is a staircase to a gallery. One has perhaps here been sitting drinking and maybe something to eat. Looking out over the dance floor. Met the life partner. Walls with graffiti. Going down again. A room that may have been the kitchen and ticket office.

I go out and look around. On the slopes is a ledge with stone edge, place for a more private meeting? Over the ridge down to the house is a path, that was probably a road before. Adjacent to the house is a shed. Peeking in, storeroom and toilets. From the palace's heyday too? BANK BANK BONK! I bounce scared back. What was that noise? Bounces off a cat. As you scared me! Did I scare it? I am wondering, cats can sometimes be a real teases, it surely the noise on purpose. They always would otherwise slip away quietly. A deserted place, which I know nothing about, which I'll leave for a walk on Bosarps jär.

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