Chicken Pox

It’s still snowing outside. Snowflake snow and the flakes are dancing up and down in the wind. Brightening everything around them. 

I felt the need to see and hear the sea. I walked all the way to the train station, my feet are aching to walk and walk endlessly. I’m craving sea. I’m craving mountains and sun. Lund is too small. Malmo is too small. I’m craving copenhagen. There are a lot of parks to walk. I’m up for kungsladan. I want to fill my lungs with fresh air. Hold it in and release a warm vapor. 

I reach Vastrahamn. It’s too small, the beach is too modernised. I want real sand and vast horizon where there’s not a single building in sight. It’s too late to take the bus to Lomma. I have a dance lesson to catch. I drink my tea looking at Oresund bridge and imagine myself crossing. I feel like my heart can’t be filled with anything at the moment. I feel that my body is just a wreck. 

And the pieces don’t fit together anymore. I wish it’s because of the pain killers and the sleeping pills and that once my body has detoxed from the virus, everything will go back to normal. 

I’m late 5 minutes to my class.