06 June 2011

not having time to reflect / reflection

I don't want to leave. It feels too much like leaving Denmark as leaving feels the same everywhere. I should know; I've left so many places behind. Luckily, whatever I leave behind me stays - for a time - and I'm already looking forward to coming back to Santa Cruz for friends, farmers' markets, art and surf.

I don't have time to reflect. I've been busy, these last couple of weeks, finishing projects and sorting things out for a fast-approaching fall. They are my last weeks not only of this school year but of being a college student, living in Santa Cruz and moving in an amorphous yet tight web of sweet-hearted people. 

I don't indulge often in nostalgia. The future has a much stronger grip on me.

Still, it's not like I document everything for no reason. See, what I love most from Denmark is the logic that makes small, portable bike lights commonplace (and cheap and easy to replace) and square trash cans that you dump down an apartment-wide chute standard. In my American life, I long for this logic - especially when it's raining and there is no train to hoist my bike onto. But in Denmark it would be a given, and I wouldn't care about it at all.

Still, here we are. I can get from Santa Cruz to the Bay no problem, it just takes a while via mass transit. And catching a ride back down south with a friend on the One, we might just get delayed by a fatal accident that found a man hurtled off the cliff and helivac'd out just moments too late.

But still. We make it back to Santa Cruz, at least.

Always I am coming home.

Proof: visual nostalgia.


The farm in Sweden.


Anchored in a northern archipelago.


The wrong side of the tracks.


The last time I graduated (high school, Sweden).


Livin' large on the ranch.


My ocean.


My ladies.


Timeless twilight, Copenhagen.


Glass grace, Copenhagen.


A January that felt like summer, Santa Cruz.

And here's to the brilliant now.

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