We were locking our bikes nearby The Little Mermaid statue. It was pitch black, around 10pm. We could hear some tourists in the distance, but it felt like, under all those stars and the warm air of that Monday night, it was only the two of us.
“If I never came back to Copenhagen and there was only one person I could see for the last time, that would be you,” I said.
“Aw, thank you!” Marie said.
We walked down to the statue and sat on the rocks, near the water.
“This have been such a great evening!” Marie said. “First, the ice cream in Søborg, then this long bike ride… and now, look up. All the stars!”
She seemed very happy. I was too. It had been the best way to say “goodbye” to Copenhagen. And it could be even better. So I put my arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder. “Yes. It has been a perfect evening,” I said.
We rode back to her place. Laid in bed for a while. Cuddle a little. Talked a lot. Laughed. Cuddled some more. Drank green tea. Then, one final, long embrace. A farewell. Biking back home. And sleeping, as if there was nothing left to do. As if I had finally done the only thing I genuinely wanted to do.
Now, I am on a journey. A poetic and an actual journey. In an hour, my plane leaves to Santiago de Chile, and I will be back home after a year and a half away. It feels like the end of an era. As if my life was a series that’s coming to the end of a season. Let’s call that series Escandinavia, and let’s say this was season 1. Just for fun. I mean it. I have been killing time for 5 and a half fucking hours now.