One day you are waiting for an answer regarding a spot for your coming exchange year. Would that be Denmark? Or Sweden?
Had it been Denmark now you probably would not stare hopelessly and speechless at some girls in the same hostel room as you hardly try to understand what they are saying, thinking of Danish as a mouth-mashing-biting-potato-sounding-like-tongue. Had it not been Sweden, or no exchange year at all, you probably would not be totally confused about what you want to do after your bachelor’s, as a consequence of dozens of stuff happening in the last few years. Keep moving? Or not? Keep staying? For what?
After a few years being fluent in Swedish, you still cannot understand why people think Stockholm dialect sounds posh. To you is just the cleanest and sweetest way one can speak this language. But you know that you will never have the same perspective on dialects as you do on those of your own mother tongue, as others do.
From that day in 2013, a warm evening of August sitting on my huge luggage trying to lock it, a blue one which I now use to collect all the stickers I buy during my trips abroad, to a cold evening of early Spring, 2018. I am now preparing for a presentation to be done tomorrow, as I applied for a summer job with the same agency through which I was exchange student. Year after year I looked at the job offers to every time realize my age would not allow me for that, but now I will hopefully jump, once again, on the other side of the exchange experience.
Spring is approaching here in Malmö. Back to a year ago, when my foot reached an origin of warmth crossing the corner of the window. Or even one and a half year ago, just moved in, autumn taking its first steps in a welcoming and embracing street still filled with that gaudy green, holding a mug of that strange instant coffee which often has the power to make me feel at home, wherever I am. And that so long missed Spring is again on its way back. Will be drinking a warm cup of tea because what Swedes call Spring, is just too cold for an Italian after all. An average temperature between 0 and 10° and trees still naked from their pastel colored duvet, just now, when they indeed would most need it, is nothing close to the Spring I am used to. But for sure it is a glad reborn I really need right now.
And now back to sounds and smells which are said to remind of moments, people, sensations and home feeling, or that have the power to make you home sickness in most unexpected moments.
You left, left people behind and some kept walking besides you, with you understanding how miles do not and should not count, but do have a meaning.
Change the book, but keep the bookmark in that one your heart says.