To the Power of Eighty-Two

How everything ends softly - just to begin again.

Big bow in front of my own presence.
I did it. Three days left of my internship - of these intense months - before I rest.
Before routine, peace, and stillness.
Before the researcher chapter begins.
Before I return to normal schedules and make caring for myself the main priority.

It wasn’t just the internship.
Because with me, it’s never just a thing.
I added two more jobs, a few projects, a sprinkle of “this and that,” plus friends, dates, and, well… life.
I spiced it up a bit - to the power of eighty-two.

And it was intense.
I don’t know how else to describe it - intense, fast, full.
Maybe I’ll understand it all better once I’m back home, breathing again, deciphering all that I’ve lived.
The reflection. The introspection. The fulfillment.

We’re about to have dinner in this gorgeous top-floor apartment that feels like a boutique luxury.
I got used to its beauty, so now it feels like home.
But truly - this place deserves compliments every time it’s mentioned.

She’s packing her luggage, ready to move to Mexico and start a glamorous new chapter - dividing the year between Mexico and Copenhagen.
Summer here, then flying toward the sun when Copenhagen starts to freeze.

She hates packing. She’s nervous.
It’s a big change.
But the excitement is bigger.
A new chapter - filled with art, food, and experience.
I’m sharing her excitement, feeling joy for her new beginning.

I’m grateful for this period we shared — even though it felt short and fast.
It wasn’t. It was a full month, maybe a week more.
Before coming here, I was nervous about spending all this time together.
But everything flowed so smoothly and naturally that now I’m already missing it.
We formed a bond that will hopefully nurture us for years to come.

I hope we’ll look back on this time and feel special — and lucky — for having had it.
It’s the kind of experience you only truly understand afterwards.

She cooked ragù from scratch, in a big turquoise pot.
It’s warming slowly on the stove.
She moves around - packing, dreaming, smiling.
I’m typing, sipping tea.

She’ll cook the shell-shaped pasta - the one I brought from Milano when I arrived here at the end of September.

We might have two or three dinners left together, but just one Sunday - this Sunday.
So the pasta feels symbolic, somehow. I’m only realizing this now.
It closes the circle.

They’ve been waiting all month, witnessing our late talks, our dinners, and our slow mornings.
Now we’ll celebrate us with a delicious dinner.

Dress code: Pajamas, in a glorious apartment.

I love moving and changing - but I wish some things would never change.
Like freezing this evening in time.
The casual intimacy that grew between us.

I wish my favorite work person hadn’t quit -

I miss having him beside me at work, unpacking our messy love lives and unapologetically judging heterosexuals.

I wish for my apartment back in Copenhagen.
The one with the terrace. 
The two dogs and the blue-eyed fiancé.

I feel a deep nostalgia for my Copenhagen life - but I can also feel how much I’ve changed, and how much Italy means to me now.

I remember the uncertainty and the excitement when I left - the longing and the loss.

Now everything merges in my heart, and I feel both happy and sad.

I had a beautiful life there.
Now I just have more lives, spread all over.
That comes with a lot of happiness - but also the heavy heart of never being fully complete.

I wish for memories that hit so deeply you miss them while they’re still happening.

This is one of them, for sure.
This month. These last few months.
The people I’ve met.
The things I’ve tried, and how I’ve grown with each of them.

I don’t know what comes next, but I know it will be exceptional.
How could it not be?
The bar has been raised to new levels.

Everything in my life feels exceptional lately.

I’m going back to Milano, to work on my extended research paper - on a topic I’m truly passionate about.
Gym. Food. Sleep. Basta.

It’s been such an intense period -
Jobs, travels, girls, art, music, parades, friends, and more…
Always and more.

Always with a billion ideas in my head.
Tired.
Running.
Smiling.

I’ll decipher it all, one by one, and share it with you - my little world.
My little world that’s shining.

And healing.