It’s somewhat Sunday I think but I’m not really sure. Over the holidays all days just melt together in a big pot of irrelevancy, everyday is just the same without being anything similar. The flat is drenched in a white winter light and the radiators have woken me up several times from the loud crackling and pounding of metal. Every time my heart has jumped as I think we’re being attacked, as if I’ve not had the calm childhood I did. I turn over and he’s of course asleep and I linger his arms open to let them embrace me. I cannot believe I don’t get to wake up next to this warm body every day anymore. He pretends to be asleep but I know he isn’t, just enjoying the stillness the weekend supplies. I walk barefoot around the flat, watching people in the chilly wind outside whilst drinking a glass of water. In only my underwear I try on a new fur coat I bought on second hand the day before. It’s a thick chocolate coloured mink and I feel a pleasure in the lack of guilt. I could sure be a Russian royalty, despite my only having paid $40 for it. I enter the bedroom with only my fur on, impatient with Daniel’s slumbering and wake him up. Fur, lace, naked skin and all. The hunger kicks in and hazily we get dressed and head out on the icy streets. Last nights snow is all gone but the crisp wind climbs down under our clothes as we rush to the brunch spot Daniel has picked out for us. It’s called the Ace and is not as I assumed a fancy ass hotel like in London but a cozy cabin looking diner. The warmth is welcome and one of the waitresses seats us at the counter. It feels like I’m starring in a sitcom with all the Canadians around me wearing sheepskin coats, lumberjack shirts and Maple Leaf beanies. Daniel laughs at how stereotypical his hometown actually is and how one will never notice until returning from having lived elsewhere. The food arrives and the goodness is far from scarce. We eat and play the game of counting Canadian icons on peoples’ clothes whilst sipping on our steaming coffees. I once again aches from missing exactly this. The pleasure of doing nothing with him. For the next few hours Daniel is my tour guide and we enter shop after shop scavenging for bargains. I find a dead gorgeous black suede jacket from April 77 that makes my heart drop with desire. I actually even go against all the relationship advice I have ever been given and let Daniel borrow me money for it. You need it Linn, it looks great on you. At least I am in love with somebody who shares the same priorities as me. Just next to the shop is Sam James Coffee Bar and it’s my interior design dream. It is white and bright with worn concrete surfaces and a ceiling twice as high as the length of the shop. Suddenly Aabid is tapping us on the shoulder. Randomly he has walked passed and seen us through the window. We order coffees just in time for Nicolas to show up. With steaming coffees we sit down talking on their goddamn stoop. <3 It’s only a few hours left until we are suppose to meet up with some friends of theirs so we spend the remains of them at some diner. Again. Shit guys, I cannot handle the diner culture too well. Ordering fried chicken and burgers and greasy things can only tempt me for that long. The night sets and we jump on one of the retro looking street cars that takes us across town to the Bell Jar. It’s empty apart from the bartender and her one hundred tea lights. We occupy the corner as their friends start to fall in and the bartender provides us with one fancy cocktail after another. The buzz of the conversation and the lousiness of the liquor makes me believe that I am rich enough not having to worry about conversion rates or bank accounts. It feels great. We discuss Moscow libraries, girlfriends breaking each others hearts and who out of us will get married first. Outside the heavy snowflakes fall quietly to cover the ground and I’m a bit drunk now so it’s all ok. The boys bring me back to the same bed as I began the day in, once again falling asleep to the loud bangs of the radiators.