"The first person to tell me I was beautiful was definitely my mother, she said that a lot. Especially when I felt the least bit beautiful. My mother always said I was really beautiful and I finally believed her at some point." [x]
You love everything, don’t ya? Yeah. But you know what, buddy? As you get older, some of the things you love might not seem so special anymore. Like your Jack-in-a-Box. Maybe you’ll realize it’s just a piece of tin and a stuffed animal. And then you forget the few things you really love. And by the time you get to my age, maybe it’s only one or two things. With me, I think it’s one.
Salander browses through an iPhoto album of old photographs of Blomkvist and the motorcycle he mentioned. In some of them, Erika is with him. In all of them, he’s wearing a leather jacket not unlike Salander’s.
Blomkvist O/S: What are you doing?
He’s just woken up in a tangle of blankets on the couch to see her at his laptop. She closes the album, leaving on the screen what she was looking at before: his iMovie of the parade and some annotated police files.
“I am not your enemy, your enemy is beside you. Your enemy steals and murders your children. Your enemy has nothing for you but chains and suffering, and commands. I do not bring you commands. I bring you a choice. And I bring your enemies what they deserve.”