What if we...?

On the airport, that airport, that very sad day, you told me that lucky Belgian guy because I had a good opinion about him. But darling, what I thought in that moment was that if I was ever to put anything about you in writing, all words wouldn't be enough. So here I am, taking back the stupid, stupid blog and wishing I can make you smile.

Cubism on Mike. Mike is a biking viking and has not yet reached thirty. Although he relates to people twice his age without difficulties, his maturity gives a lot of room for playing, laughing, speaking non-sense for hours and then go back to plan a life. Mike is always surrounded by people and has this amazing ability to take charge. He lightens up a room just by walking into it.

Mike has been in my heart since that day when he took my hand and put it in his pocket. It was snow everywhere we walked and the sky over Christiania had this white/gray colour that made difficult to know if the dim lights of the factories were close by or far away. I talked about my dreams and hopes that night, and we created a bond, James Bond.

Mike and I talked almost all days, and now once a week (stupid Ocean in between). He called me for everything and so did I, we discussed sushi and politics-we never found a way to hang up. He is so smart, yet new to the world and the bad things in life. I liked when he called with a funny idea, like storming parties or having ice-cream for lunch. I liked to cook for him and with him, and to drink champagne without a reason better than being alive. I wish him all the love, and all the good and all the sunny days possible. I wish for me not to ever lose track of him. I wish he could kiss me goodnight and wave from the staircase over and over again.

And in the end you've got a friend for lifetime...

Saadan skat. Jeg savner dig.