2pac on the office stereos and chocolate from New York

It's getting cold in Helsinki. It's the perfect time to wish everyone well and escape.


Four days left.

I still need to go and get my hair bleached, my teeth bleached and my conscience bleached white from all the Summer sins I have committed.

I have become desensitized to the word combination I love you and I have grown a thicker skin than ever, but it feels like Spring in the middle of Autumn. Even the office walls and windows seem to stretch into a light and bright eternity, 19th century grids attracting what's left of Autumn sunshine - the same walls and windows that shielded the bourgeoisie a hundred years ago. Now the rooms are filled with 90's rap and bad jokes, chocolate from New York and endless tea breaks, a warmth I never expected to witness here.

London's waiting patiently and I'm waiting impatiently, shivering under layers of wool that can't keep me warm.