After five hectic days in Stockholm I’m back in London. Flying between the two feel too familiar after having gone back every third week during 2014-2015 when Daniel and I had a long distance relationship. I know where the empty toilets are at Arlanda (the ones in terminal 5 right before the first security check), which queue through security is quickest (the far left or upstairs) and I’ve learnt my passport number by heart.
Going through the passport control this time I got stopped by the man flicking through my documents.
”I just have to say that I feel like I see you here all the time – flying off to London every other week or so! What do you do there exactly?”
Out of all places I never thought I’d become a regular at a passport control.
Today I’m editing photos and giving feedback on my course mates texts from bed, listening to the only album I’ve ever purchased from iTunes; BEYONCÉ by Beyoncé from 2013. At the airport I purchased ten books in Swedish from a lovely chick, that I’m planning on finishing unreasonably fast. I pray to the universe or Mick Jagger that I’ll be disciplined enough to make enough money to maintain this freelance lifestyle. Mondays just don’t seem as harsh.