Long time no see. Covid-19 has changed the world and my travel plans, to be honest I don’t even know what to do with my life anymore. So if anyone has any good suggestions, bring it on! I’ve been working, working and working. Covid-19 has been easy on Finland, but it’s definitely not the right time to plan a complete take-off. I’ve basically had too much time to bury my dreams and dig them up time and time again, and everytime I’ve digged up different kind of dreams.
I only had one week of summer holiday this summer and a lot of shit has happened in my personal life lately, so I went home. Spent some time in the forest, went fishing with my dad, spent evenings with my family and tried not to think about anything. It was awesome and relaxing and wonderful. Then I came back to Helsinki and my anxieties hit hard. Since I don’t have any wise things to say, I’m gonna show you some pictures of my home town.
People are made of places. They carry with them hints of jungles or mountains, a tropic grace or the cool eyes of sea-gazers. Atmosphere of cities how different drops from them, like the smell of smog or the almost-not-smell of tulips in the spring, nature tidily plotted in little squares with a fountain in the centre; museum smell, art also tidily plotted with a guidebook; or the smell of work, glue factories maybe, chromium-plated offices; smell of subways crowded at rush hours.
Where I come from, people carry woods in their minds, acres of pine woods; blueberry patches in the burned-out bush; wooden farmhouses, old, in need of paint, with yards where hens and chickens circle about, clucking aimlessly; battered schoolhouses behind which violets grow. Spring and winter are the mind’s chief seasons: ice and the breaking of ice.
A door in the mind blows open, and there blows a frosty wind from fields of snow.
– Where I Come From by Elizabeth Brewster