Edinburgh, Copenhagen, Amsterdam

2/22/26 - Edinburgh 

The light makes the windows look like orbs, like white holes, if you put your hand against the glass, it’ll dissolve. The grass is the greenest of greens. Like a king's lawn. It is almost the end of the weary months. The flowers are blossoming beside the river of Leith, the sun makes its entrance quietly, we thank the rain for its stay, friends reconnect, we hold hands in the street & on the train & when nobody's watching. Love is like a white-hole that swallows you. The song the man plays busking on the pavement makes me cry, the dogs dancing in the water make me cry, the old decaying brick makes me cry, the wind blowing makes me cry, but it’s settling. I want to tell you about this place. But I’m just visiting, I don’t even go by my actual name. A nickname only. I know it’s silly. From my hostel bunk bed I can hear a group of guys stumbling home from the pub, singing. I write under the light of the streetlamp out my window. Should I still be out? Am I missing out on this age? Tomorrow it will be beautiful which will make it hard to leave. 

3/2/26 - Copenhagen

I’m in a coffee shop, my phone’s dead and I’m on my own until my friend gets out of classes at 6 pm. I feel slightly off-kilter here. The people are so beautiful and they speak a lovely sounding language and they wear trench coats and ballet flats while biking. I am a bug hitting the car window. But I don’t mind. I don’t mind having to figure out how to spend a couple of hours. Trying a street hotdog and sitting next to a stranger on a bench overlooking a row of colorful buildings. All the buildings are colorful here. I might be lost forever. I found a coffee shop to charge my phone but I’m too nervous to ask for the wifi so I can pull up directions. Okay when I wrote that down I saw the ridiculousness of it so I went up and asked. I am downing this chai tea now, even though my stomach is hurting already from the street hotdog. I’m going to write down the directions home on my hand and hope that my friend finds me outside of her apartment building. I don’t really mind being lost here. 

3/7/26 - Amsterdam

Graham and I sat in this one shop for what seemed like forever—people watching. Two dads and their kids, seemed like they’d frequented this place, chatting closely with the guy making coffee. They were cool, big baggy fits on, sitting back casually on the brown leather couches, their kids were good buds, making games out of nothing, being loud but in a way that made me jealous of all the fun they were having. Leaving, one dad on a motorcycle, the other on an old silver bike, the two kids assumed their positions in front of their dads, gripping the handlebars, like they’d done hundreds of times. A sweet routine. I think about how great it’d be to grow up here. The abundant green, the independence that comes with safety, the art all around, the canals in every direction. I’ve been gone from Dublin for just over a week. I’ve been gone from my college house in Tacoma for just over two months. I’ve been gone from my dad’s house in Minneapolis for 3 and a half years. It goes on. We’re always leaving but we’re always coming up to something. Rounding the corner to find a beautiful lookout.