maybe

After two days of a spring flu, I'm finally back in action. Today I sat on the library steps in the sun and waved at friends across the road. I also skipped across dry, dusty asphalt and bought a swimming costume for next summer and browsed music festivals in Finland and thought about going abroad, maybe.

(Have I ever told you what this city is like in the summer? It's lying on the grass in parks and singing in the streets. It's the sea breeze, wherever you go. Trams rattling along the polished cobblestones and sunlight on the art nouveau facades. It's fresh and it's bright and it's all one needs to be happy.)

i don't know about my dreams

With the risk of sounding like a critic-loving hipster, this must be one of the most perfect songs in existence. That voice, that bit of piano near the end, the waves of sound. I just want to lay on the floor of my room in the slanting patch of sunlight and listen to this for a few days.

Also, the video. The video is kind of perfect too.

(more) anchors

There's something about this picture. Maybe it's just my endless fascination with tattoos. But, despite most of my sailing plans for next summer kind of falling apart, anchors bear my heart with them, as do ropes and pinrails and hardwood decks, and those delightful flying jibs.

sunday and dreams of summer

After a night of hide and seek with friends during Earth Hour and not-quite-enough sleep, we rolled out of bed into the sunlight. A table laden with candles and breakfast. A hint of soft guitar music.

And afterwards a solitary walk around Helsinki. Spontaneously. Because the sun shone from just the right angle at Esplanadi, and I could squint and imagine the endless deep green of late summer. Because of a display window that read Do you live in the moment? 

The ice has retreated and the sea is finally open. Dreaming about taking the ferry to Suomenlinna come June, maybe leaning into someone, bumping elbows, feeling the warmth against the wind. Pointing out the little islands scattered around like memories of a dream.

Humming a song to myself, the one that goes tämä on kuitenkin minun kaupunkini, this is my city after all.

agoraphobia

I've posted artwork by Austin Kleon before, but he just keeps on blacking words out and breaking my heart. This one's called Agoraphobia.

midnight ramblings

"I'm a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy."

J.D. Salinger: Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction

Which is all kinds of sad, really. I long for happiness, but I cower when presented with a chance to achieve it. In a way I think I'm just scared of being happy because it's something I'm not good at. And I'm scared to death by things I'm not good at.

I guess I just want people to worry about me, except not really, because I resent it when they do.