A Final Adjö

There are times in life that are simply unforgettable. Not only because certain smells, songs or situations remind you of them every now and then, but because they have utterly changed and still influence your view on life, people and events. Deep in your heart, every major decision in your life has been influenced by those times and the important experiences you’ve made back then. Everything you’ve said, done or refused to do can be justified by the things you learned there and then. No day seems to go by in which you don’t think back nostalgically, mad, frustrated, happy – but in any case deeply moved. In fact, thinking back has become a necessity, an indispensable part of your life. Of course, not everything was great then, in fact, life gave you a lot of opportunities to remember to always appreciate the good times when they’re there. But for sure was this time, all in all, the most vivid time of your life.

Everyone has their own unforgettable, big story of their life. At least I hope so. Mine is surely the time I can’t stop talking and thinking about and everyone who ever talked to me knows what I’m (once again) talking about.

From time to time it seems a bit unhealthy to me how I tend to worship my time in Sweden. But I can’t help it, it was THE time of my life. There were moments of pure happiness and pure appreciation of life. I was lucky enough to meet people with whom I really connected, who I still count to my closest friends. People I’d otherwise have never met. What a cruel thought!

In fact, there were so many incredible people who I now recall as the most open, tolerant and uncomplicated people I’ve ever met. If it wasn’t for them I would have never learned to think outside the box. I would have never been able to change so much, to finally open my mind and think different. This wildly underestimated ability is actually the one, I suppose, that was, is and will be the one lifechanging skill that I’ll hopefully always carry with me. I may forget how to speak Swedish, how to bake kanelbullar or how this disgusting ugly wine tasted, and that’s ok. But if I ever lose the ability to think outside the box, I don’t even know what life could possibly have in store for me.

But apart from the wonderful people I’ve met there, I will always remember with an indescribable mix of emotions the places I’ve seen and the craziness we’ve lived.

The first fika we got a bit wrong when we had Corona and donuts.


The time it was raining so badly and I didn’t bring an umbrella or suitable shoes for that weather. That was when I borrowed a pair of socks from a friend who always brings a second pair of socks in her handback. I do that eversince, too. I never needed them.

Our first monthiversary.


The welcome dinner: the first time I got to dance with my favourite argentinian friend. ;-)

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LeMans. The first kravall. Beer Pong.


Having vodka and beers and creating a fantastic playlist with an appopriate name.


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Moving closer to HG.

Failing to take selfies at the HG bathroom.

SEEING THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. And never being able to stop thinking about them in complete sadness. Having the impression, for the first time in life, to actually have seen it all and enough and that everything, from that time on, would feel like going backwards.


Having simply a good time celebrating my birthday.


Finding a note on my neighbour’s window.


And really, so much more.

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I know you know all this already, or you don’t know me so this doesn’t make any sense, but it’s about time I write all this down. Sweden changed me and the only people who will ever get it are those who were there with me. They get how thinking back will always be a little bit painful but still the most important thing in life. The thing I was most afraid of before I left was to forget, not people or places or feelings, those I could never forget. But to forget what kind of person I could actually be. To forget everything I learned about myself. And sometimes the only way to remember that seems to talk about it, and to try to make it understandable to all my friends who haven’t been there with me. As so often in life though, words don’t seem to be enough. But I guess it’s worth a try.

At least writing down helps closing that chapter and taking every impression, lesson and important friendship with me to lots of new chapters of my life.


It is what it is

It’s a curious thing, this obsession with time that everyone seems to have. Not only have, but suffer from. I’m not excluding myself, no. I can’t deny the shivers that I get from the backwards ticking clock from Benjamin Button. I can’t deny how I’m living in the past and the future at the same time, or sometimes wishing to stop time for a while even though I never feel it going by.

How do we even perceive time? You feel it when it has passed, you fear it when it’s yet to come. But the moment it is your present, there’s not a single way to sense it. Not one.

And now, dear daily prompt, you are asking me to give you NOW. And how am I supposed to do it? By telling you that I’m sitting on a white couch right now, tiping those words, staring at my computer and blinking every once in a while? I’m sure that’s not what you want.

So I’d start by telling you what I’ve been up to since January first, which is quite a lot. I visited the most incredible places and made life-changing experiences. I cried, I laughed, I danced. I lived.

Then I’d tell you what I think life will be like in the future. How little I know about what will happen next and how much I hate this uncertainty. But that, also, is part of life.

By now you should realize that I can’t give now to you. Otherwise it would suddenly occur to me that this now is such a small window, a cage, from which we can’t escape. It’s nothing, in comparison to the amount of life I experienced in the past and will hopefully experience in the future, it’s there and with the next blink of an eye it has become the past – and yet it is everything we actually have. Funny that we seem to live to let the future become the past.

Realizing this will hopefully make me more aware of the present in the future.

Well, why not start now?

Why I wouldn’t like to survive the end of the world

I’m sure that I’m not the only person on earth thinking about the great death of the earth every once in a while. Probably not even in this exact moment. More than likely, every one of you, whoever is actually reading those lines, has a certain scenario in their heads about how exactly this party is going to end. I’m guessing  you’re picturing it all painted red and black with a lot of smoke and stuff. At least that’s what is in my head right now.


Anyway, as we all think about ourselves as this significant human being that’s going to change the world at some point for sure, most of us like to think about ourselves as the survivors of the apocalypse, the Adams and Eves of the new world, the preservers of the human heritage. Well, at least I hope that most of the people do actually think like this. Otherwise by now you know a lot more about my psychological issues than I would like you to.

Let’s say I’m right and have a look at time and the significance of the life of one human being within it. Let’s even compare it with the significance of the dump a rat took somewhere in a field in France in 1756 to my life right now. And now let’s assume that it’s even 3975330984 x 10^234 times less significant. That is not much. (If you’d like a more graphic description (yes? oh really? more graphic than that?) or you’re so afraid of and/or disgusted by rats that you’re standing on a table screaming right now, just have a look at this website: http://hereistoday.com/)

Honestly, I still hope that you’re taking me seriously, but I’m starting to doubt it.

But why did I bring up the significance of one human being for the turning of the world? Or time in general? And even a rat?

As I was sitting in the sun today, changing from solid to fluid, I had not much more to do than thinking about my very own significance in this very world and time, about this moment that they call life, and about the time it will end. I also thought about history and how blessed I am to live now and to know how everything with the world and humanity and stuff turned out so far. It’s actually a great story! But every great story deserves a great end, doesn’t it? And then it occurred to me: damn it. I’m not going to find out how this story ends. And why. And when. Only if the world will come to an end with me. And this is why it would be incredibly annoying to survive the apocalypse.

You know, by then I will have made it so far: I will have given everything to survive right till the very, very end of the world. To the last moment. The last breath of the earth, blink of the sun, dump of a rat, kiss of the rain, whistle of the wind. I’d know how the book ends. I have the perfect story from beginning to end. I can die with a satisfaction that not many people will share. And THEN I’ll find a rescue, chicken out from death and wake-f*cking-up the next morning. I missed it. I missed the chance to die happy. I had the perfect finale of life and i screwed. it. up. What do I get from that? I wonder how everything’s going to change after I died, how humanity will manage their chance this time. And I’ll never know. What a sucky end. No one would read this book.

So please, life, if you’re reading this: be a dear and let the apocalypse come when I’m eighty and done. And then take me with you. I’ll write a book about it in the afterlife and it’s gonna be a hit. Promise.

How would you describe light for someone who is blind?


The rain is like an orchestra to me… or, is it?

I’m not sure to which sort of people I belong. As I’m sitting in the attic while it’s raining cats an dogs I can’t avoid to make up my mind about whether I love the low sounds that the falling raindrops make on the window right above my head or not. Intentionally, I smiled when I heard the first raindrops falling. I can’t deny how the softness of this natural orchestra’s music calms me down immediately. A music-nerd as I am I started to go through all the song lyrics connected to rain that came to my mind: It’s raining men; Raindrops keep falling on my head; The rain is like an orchestra to me; Singing in the rain; Purple Rain; Set fire to the rain… wow! Rain must be wonderful. If I will remember this tonight when I have to walk fifteen minutes through drenching rain while it’s cold, windy and disgusting? Probably.

Not. This is actually the thing that came to my mind right after being amazed by those wonderful sounds. The sky is grey, I haven’t seen a real heartwarming and mood-lifting winter sun in days, it’s windy and cold and I need to go outside later on. There’s nothing poetic about that, is there? Still, as much as we all hate rain at least at some point in our lifes, we love it. Is there anything more romantic than kissing in the rain? Or more heartbreaking than a dramatic goodbye scene while even the heavens cry? Or more sexy than a woman walking around in a white summerdress while the rain is fitting it a little tighter to her body, guys? At least about that last thing I’m sure that those phenomenons are one reason for the weatherman to accidentally stretch the truth about the upcoming rainclouds. Well, but that’s another story.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I’m not going to make a rain playlist, at least not right now. I’m not posting the five most stunning rain pictures you can find on the web. I’m just trying to find a reason why the rain is such a huge source of inspiration for movies, music, literature, photographers and so on. We love the tenderness of the warm summer rain which couldn’t be a more lovely contradiction. We love the melancholy that rain creates and takes with its coming and going. We might even only love how it makes us appreciate the sun again.

Or maybe it’s the only thing that touches us not only on our skin but in our hearts when we weren’t able to feel anything else in a long time. Maybe it’s the subsitution the tears we couldn’t cry for years.

Will I ever know for sure? I don’t care. I just love how this ugly rainy day inspired me to write and find out a little more about this amazing world.

The beginning.

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Dear readers,

this is the moment to begin. It’s always difficult to find the right words or the right topic in the beginning, but I think I’m starting with the actual… well, beginning.

As you can see, the title of this blog is in some way related to the picture of this article. I took this picture in my brother’s flat where he and his girlfriend are having hundreds of those fridge magnets. He asked me to immortalise myself on his fridge with a random phrase. I chose this one. Why? I should probably see a psychologist to get an answer for that. But anyway, this phrase fills me with joy everytime I see it.

When I was looking for a title for my blog, I stumbled upon this picture once again. I honestly didn’t hesitate to make it the name giver of this experiment. I hope you like it.

Now, let’s hope that this is the start of something that will touch someone once in a while somewhere near that thing we call the heart. Let’s hope that I can share some of the joy poetry gives to me with you in the future.