Near King's cross, last autumn, snapped by Milla

Helsinki has indeed made me laugh and cry and yell and scream. I haven't escaped from rainy nights or silent moments, but I've gotten bits and bobs here and there that could be mistaken for small adventures; walking in the rain at 4am to hop into a car that was made decades before I was born and meeting a parisian boy with whom I talked politics and all kinds of nonsense while struggling to find the right words.

I can't put this into words so I'll turn it into a list: Barcelona, Bilbao, San Sebastian, Bordeaux, Lyon, Nice, Marseille, the scary unknown for a month and hearts racing.

I'll be saying my I miss yous tomorrow, the last ones at the airport on Thursday, but I know some of them will get stuck in my throat. I'll be leaving unfinished things behind, like I always do. One day I'll learn to leave properly.

When I come back it'll almost be Autumn and things will have changed but not very much after all. Perhaps I will have changed. But not that much after all.

Eight days until my plane takes off from Helsinki-Vantaa. My last Helsinki-days so far have included cigarettes, cheap clothes, Hämeentie in both directions and a constant need to push some people away while pulling others closer.

I'm hoping Helsinki will bring me enough heartache and misery and overwhelming feelings in the eight days to come so that I won't miss it too much during my time away.

I can't get any sleep so I'm staying awake.

Home again, maps in front of me, calls to make, jobs to seek, tickets to buy, things to do.

I have a week of lazing around, swimming in a river and drinking too much sugary apple cider behind me; a couple of quite busy weeks ahead of me.

Summer's hasting on and I'm trying to keep my calm.

A quick pit-stop home before continuing this trip of mine.

Since leaving Helsinki on Monday afternoon I've realized that I actually don't like Suede very much, that my confusion isn't going nowhere quick, that I'm huge on procrastination and postponing decision-making, that I'm a bit scared of what's to come and that if my face was a bit finer and my body a bit slimmer I'd be a portrait craché of my mother in the beginning of the 80's. Right down to the bright coral bikini tops and distressed denim.

Dis-moi ce que tu penses de ma vie, de mon adolescence, Sébiastien Tellier's been echoing in my head for the whole day.

I'm going to take a time-out from this life of mine, first 500 km away from Helsinki, then switching to a location 120 km away. Feels good to let things go for a week, I'm especially looking forward to the 120 km one: a good road trip and a few laughs.

Running for the thrill of it, I suppose.

And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born in /
Then it's time to go /
And define your destination /
There's so many different places to call home

Definitely feeling like a tourist here sometimes. Not always in a bad way, certainly not when sitting on waterfronts and lazing the day away.

I'm selling my stuff (well, not that stuff...) down at Valtteri in the morning, come see a tired and weary me and finance my future travels!

I wish I had some pictures of the past days. How come the first days of Summer are always so chaotic? If I had it all on Polaroids, I would have pictures of drunken blurs, foul-tasting vodka, misunderstandings and me being an idiot towards people for whom I care very much.

But I would also have pictures of champagne bottles, fresh grass, slow moments on Vuorikatu with danes I had just met, walking barefoot and slipping on pieces of glass, hands running over the notches in spines, not worrying about the aftermath and soft hotel corridor carpets.

The first proper Summer nights are here and I'm relieved.

I bleached and cut my hair and bought Paris from a clothing store for 18€.