Barcelona, Zaragoza, Bilbao, San Sebastian, Biarritz, Nice, Torino, Lyon and I'm hooked to this. Tomorrow: train from Lyon Part-Dieu to Paris.

My red notebook is filling up with notes from cities that pass faster than I would hope, with names of people I'll probably never meet. My mind's filling up with images of faces I don't want to forget, moments racing in a car down the narrow streets of Nice, miniature love stories on Boulevard Victor Hugo and feeling blue on the way to the next city.

The rhythm of leaving is catching up on the soles of my shoes; it was hard at first but it gets easier. Letting go is becoming more bearable. Even if there are moments when you doubt it, your next great encounter is on its way: down the street, on the morning train, in a city three hours away. You lose your faith, but you get back on your feet; the possibilities make travelling so addicting.

I don't have the time to take any pictures, neither would I want to. I want everyone to stay bright in my memory, not as fading colours in a picture book. Change is always constant and pictures could slow it down, but I don't want to risk losing the moment.

I won't be updating this blog anymore, since it doesn't feel important anymore. I've seen and learnt so much, I've experienced feelings so precious I don't know how to share them, how to put them into words so that they could be translated in the right way.

I'm off to Paris. There's still so much to see, so many people to meet, so many things to learn.

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.

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.

Actual footage of my four-hour sleep-habitus. Nothing beats ice-cold water, a size too big 80's shorts (hey, it's a pair of Lees) and tangly hair, eh?

Summer begun yesterday night, a long long way from home, when the night fell over fields and wooden houses and cider tasted a bit foul. Someone from the past reminded me of what I could've turned into if I hadn't been careful and unluckily lucky. New people reminded me that people that are interesting but not exhausting exist, I had forgotten it in the midst of all the tangles.

During the small hours I realized there actually are times when there is no direction home. While walking on the train tracks I counted all the good things to come and all the good things I've already got.

I'm listening to Paul Simon and eighties classics, feels good to be here, feels good to get going again tomorrow.

+ going to get some take away-thai from Kallio! Things couldn't look much higher up. Oh the simple joys of life.