It’s been so long.

I love it when situations, people, memories, and places get their own soundtracks. Those classic “our song” moments (eugh, cheesy) are soundtracks in sync. But anyway, in reality it’s just another little layer of emotions. And music does, indeed, make life so much better. So, I am super content I got to roam around Helsinki with a shared little secret in my ear. Silly self-explanatory smirk on my face, the arctic gale didn’t even seem so bad. Spring came early this year, and despite the weather changing, the spring has decided to stay. For now. One may or may not be speaking in riddles. Snicker snicker. It’s been too long since I last paid attention to this properly.

Helsinki was as lovely as expected. My heart wants to burst with happiness. When all shits on this planet hit the fan, I think of the wonderful people around me, and realise that I must have done something right along the way. How else would I have earned this army of sweethearts? Seeing my dearest ones loved and happy is the best thing ever. And yeah, have I mentioned I love-love-love Helsinki? My beautiful escape.

The problem with Helsinki is that one needs to take the boat there, though. And one should never take the Saturday morning boat. It’s a workout for tolerance, but demographically definitely a fascinating observation. Until the “DJ” comes on, and starts rocking out disco tunes from 70s and 80s (while mumbling into the microphone in between tracks; sound levels of course completely messed up, so everything starts with the speakers imploding a little – saying stuff like “yeaah, this is a sweet track, one of my favourites”), and the half past drunk tourists find their courage to hover on the dance floor a little. And the second leg of the trouble is the journey back. The homecoming boat wasn’t as festive as the Saturday morning one, but an exercise for one’s poker face. There’s always that one crazy person (not sure if actually a bit on the funky side, or just delirious, or maybe both?) that takes the dance floor and shouts his or her approval towards the people entertaining the indifferent commuting crowd. And then they hear their favourite ever song and then there’s no stopping. And then why not smear some lipstick all over one’s own face and even hair? Anyway. It’s always one hell of a ride. But maybe I’m too narrow-minded. Need more yolo.

I’ll go put out some fire now. With gasoline.

Oh, and watch this. This dog definitely knows how to yolo.


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