(pictures from here.)

that i miss common sense as often found in norway.

that cooking for someone makes me put in more effort, and it makes me not only eat bread and peanut butter all the time, and

i don’t know if i could live alone, BUT if i did i think i’d need a lot of rules and set plans. otherwise i’m scared i’d never see anyone.

i can’t wait to see my clothes in norway. they feel like old friends, and another life, in which i don’t only wear singlets and boys’ shorts.

(and i miss having a fashion blog.)

what i spend my day on (if i let myself) is cooking, exercising, cooking more and more, cleaning a little bit, writing and reading. and then i have to force myself out of the house to interact with other human beings.

i am always, always so in awe of people around me: the barista who remembers my name (when i guiltily admit i can’t recall his); the handwritten letter i receive in return, clearly written with a beautiful and expensive pen on soft and thick paper, carefully selected words; the immediate concerns of those around me when i dare express a slight turn of mood away from the normal; my siblings, who are so funny and so great, and infinitely more mature and emotionally balanced than i am;

and life.

and that to do something every single day is incredibly rewarding.

and something else that’s rewarding: finally finishing the large and physically heavy book you’ve attempted twice before, but now you have it, and it almost makes you cry with joy.

knowing more and more that food is a science and an incredible source of satisfaction, beauty and experiences.