Stockholm is a beautiful place. Each day when I walk through the streets I find another lovely little something new about Sweden to adore. I have certain parts of the city that I return to, time after time. I sit on the same bench, and stare at the same wall with the pretty cracked paint, day after day. I have lots of time to think. Probably too much time. I'm always lost in a strange little dream world, where things work out and happiness always turns up in the end. Adjusting to life in Sweden has been a struggle. Most days I hate it here, and in my quest to remain positive and sane, I retreat backwards, towards things that remind me of home, or reasons why I moved here in the first place. It is my only defense against the more common feelings of desperation, loneliness and urges to flee far far away.
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