Wir fliegen

What’s the perfect summer day? It could be white sandy beaches, huge palm trees, turquoise waves… just like that ancient Windows desktop background image. Or maybe perfect is something you can’t plan, something a little absurd, something so unexpected and out of the ordinary that you struggle to believe it really happened the morning after. And maybe sometimes perfect is the most ordinary of all things. Anyway. Perfect is this, perfect are these guys and perfect are the waves we jumped into a few weeks ago.

After a rather crappy week (or, how I prefer to put it, a nightmare in seven acts, ha), I hopped on a bus towards the county of Brandenburg. It’s full of woods, lakes and nothingness. A couple of friends of mine met near Werbellinsee to stop for a second or two (phones off!), tell each other important and less important stories, and to just do a lot of swimming and running and barbecuing. Nature things.

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And guess what? That was my perfect summer weekend, an hour away from my flat. The lake was probably less spectacular than the ones I’ve seen in Italy or Norway last month, but who cares.

If home is the place or the feeling where everything’s better and everything’s safe (One Tree Hill anyone?), then this was it and I’m forever grateful to this beautiful bunch of people who constantly remind me of the things that are worth fighting for, and also of those we should better let go.

And this is where it gets super cheesy: I love going through life’s ups and downs with you, I love cuddling with you, I love that you don’t mind my weirdness, the volume of my laughter and err, whole existence, and that you even join in the random outbreaks of dance moves on busy train platforms. Thank you for making me look forward to coming back home there every single time.

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