It feels like we are always in grocery stores, perpetually roaming a new fluorescent aisle that is totally different yet exactly the same as the last one. I have read (or struggled to read) packaging in Danish, Spanish, French, Dutch, German, Norwegian, Swedish and Finnish.I have a growing guilty conscience about the inefficiency of buying for single meals and the number of plastic packaging we have inevitebly disposed of (despite considerable conservation efforts). At times, the inability to eat salads and warm meals, the excesses of white starch and müsli. We have become masters of assembling swiss-army sandwiches on trains, buses, park benches and steps.
I dream of pear and gorgonzola pizza, potato wedges, quinoa salads, toronto takeout and my mother's cooking. For now, at a friend's apartment in Helsinki, we have permanence.
I have never been so excited for domesticity in my life.
i would like a dream where (i) i come to visit you in helsinki + (ii) we buy flour and bake bread + (iii) we make sandwiches on fresh bread + (iv) we bike to a beautiful nearby park and eat those sandwiches
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