It was a Thursday right at the beginning of the year and I had decided to take a few days off school despite that fact that I basically just came back from our holiday in Canada. It’s needed occasionally though, to prioritise kissing and long talks with friends in front of solving briefs. So I caught a plane to London and Daniel and nothing but resting in bed watching some rubbish series. On the Friday he left for work and I walked the damp street down to Danielle’s flat. None of us had like a single penny left after the holidays. Not that we ever do or ever have in London town. But she managed to stir together some plane quinoa that we had together with some tea. I hadn’t seen her in a long while and lots had happened to my Canadian queen. She laid in her bed, talking about love and jobs and futures whilst a radio recording played on vinyl. I questioned her about everything then told her about Toronto as I went through all of her clothing rail. We decided that next summer it’s time for us to go back to Canada together and not wear anything but dresses and fill our suitcases with second hand furs. Around three we said bye as she is a working woman and had so cycle off to her job. I walked the short distance back to Daniel’s to sip coffee in his window and edit photos. It would suit me so well, not having a nine to five job but be able to see some sunlight instead. I didn’t leave the block all night but as Daniel got home we walked around the corner to the tiny Italian restaurant. They have their sign in Comic Sans and seats exactly 15 people, but make food for gods. Daniel’s old flatmates are there already and I had missed them so dearly. It’s funny that some people just pinch your heart a little extra. With clinking off license bags we walk back home from the dinner and find my dreamy Lovisa standing by the gate. She’s a south londoner now, that little traitor. But honestly, I am slightly tempted myself to move to cheaper areas some day. As long as I’m in London. I think we kind of have the same emotional curve this year, and even though it’s disgusting to have friends feeling like shit, it is somewhat a great fucking comfort too. Danielle arrives straight after work wearing her new sky high heels and I get her tipsy immidiately. Jared and Olli and Seb and Anthony join us as well. All the unmatching glasses in the cupboard get handed out and we go through Pitchforks top 100 tracks of 2014 with large disagreements. Not once does my mind touch upon school and all the work I’m suppose to be doing, and it’s such a relief. I don’t know what this part of town does to me. It is somehow filled with struggles and mold and bad salaries and evil landlords, but still it manages to erase all of my problems so that I can feel completely carefree. We are all in this shit together. I don’t even remember that it in fact isn’t even my home anymore and won’t for another few days. Bless.