It's real as far as I can see

I came home late, after a tea and two pints of cider. And a lot of talking. And a bit of kissing under windy April skies.

We accidentally had matching coats and he laughed at my stories. He had dark curly hair, as you'd expect someone from French Canada to have. He smelled good like nice boys always do.

He was nice. So nice.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, quite the opposite, but I'm still a bit stuck on something 1172 km away. I feel so stupid but I can't help it, damn it. I guess it's always the ones that end like tearing a band-aid that get you stuck.

Have a nice weekend you all, let's hope mine is a collateral damage-free one.

Vi skulle nog ha hamnat här ändå

Top to bottom: the sea and Louisiana, Micke and Toby and me and Roosa's place on Ingerslevsgade, Louisiana and tiny Roosa, new shoes from naked, drinks bartended by me in Vesterbro, making a white russian with Carl, Kastellet

I'd love to write it all down but det er ikke let. What I can say is that I haven't felt this free and beautiful and charming and loveable in a long time. When you feel free the words don't come easy. Genuine happiness isn't supposed to be written down.

French kissing in Copenhagen turned into hanging out at the bar after hours and talking about music in the only bar that was open in Nørrebro. Talking about music in Nørrebro quickly became drinking white wine on Nørrebrogade. The moment I wished the minutes would slow down was the moment I knew I had momentarily fallen in love with it all.

Vesterbro, Nørrebro, Christianshavn, Kastellet, Nordhavn.

The wind of change blew hard but soft in København.

Cambridge postcard 1

I love it here. I love it so much it makes me want to cry. I love it so much I can't find any pompous and embarrassingly poetic words to describe it. Boys in tweed and bicycles everywhere, it's beautiful and it's small and it's wonderful. The rugby varsity games are being played in a couple of days, I saw the rugby boys getting photographed in their light blue suits near King's.

I want this really, really bad, I want it so bad it's almost a physical feeling.

And when I should be revising, cheers to history in a white bathrobe, drinking good hotel hot chocolate and watching news on the BBC. On the to-do list: a cab ride into town and making lasting impressions. Let's hope this song rings true tomorrow.

Me 5 months ago, a day before graduation / Me 50 minutes ago, a day after getting an interview for the world's best university

Shoddy webcam pictures, but oh god.

Me then: confused, young, lost, disoriented, happy because of the graduation.

Me now: confused, young, lost, disoriented, fitter, thinner, happier.

Helsinki-Vantaa-LHR on the 5th, interview on the 7th, back to Helsinki on the 9th. I'm ecstatic but afraid that by writing this down I'll magically diminish my chances of making it.

Dear Cambridge, you've already taught me what it's like to cry out of sheer happiness, I'm in shock and I like you a lot.

Tonight: some wine and a good time.

I'm so happy I can't breathe.

Snart kommer vågorna, snart kommer Atlanten

I fought my way home at 5am, after eating mud cake, drinking a sangria-ish white wine mix and visiting the tiki bar. This city showed its friendly face, again.

I learned that P&K is a finnish-swedish abbreviation of puss och kram (from my tuesday night-acquaintance who I never thought I'd hear from again). Tuesday's nightly acquaintance almost convinced us to switch to a newly-opened horrible club with his charming but clumsy messages, but we stayed put, dancing and having conversations that ended with Have a good time in Indonesia and sometimes a bit of excessively friendly behavior.

Everything that's temporary feels fine. I can easily exchange a few smiles and laughs and talks when I know that the take-off is soon.

Things seem easy. Time to breathe, time to be. It seems like I'm learning something new every weekend, it seems like every change, even as little as cutting off hair is linked to something better. I think the cushioned playground- mentality is working fine.

Julie Nixon, daughter of Richard Nixon married David Eisenhower, grandson of Dwight Eisenhower

I'm falling into the same old patterns again and again. And I bought peroxide spray but I'm too afraid to use it.

I'm tired tired tired which is perfectly depicted in the first picture. My body's giving up. I can't sleep but then sleep for 10 hours straight. I can't keep awake but then I lie awake for hours.

I can't wait to get on a plane and get away. My traveling savings will reach €2500 next month and I'm ecstatic. It's getting closer.