One week until Greenland, and the time bubble I’ve floated in for the past six weeks will burst. Gone with the travelling, a different city every Tuesday, another couch to sleep on. My way of killing time.
One week until Greenland, and the snow has begun to melt in Nuuk. My fantasy world dissolves as the markets of Hamburg and the lane ways of Brighton become but a wistful memory.
One week until Greenland, and I will begin to know the meaning of eternity and expanse, limitation and wonder. Coldness and darkness, brightness and nature.
One week until Greenland, and still so many mundane things to consider doing before reality hits. Like going for fast food or maybe a hair cut.
One week until Greenland, and the experiment with small town living starts in the strange city of Nuuk. I will find new delight (or despair) in familiarity. I will learn to speak Dangreenlish and Greendanglish. Perhaps I will start to think in Danish.
One week until Greenland, and then I will join a volleyball team. Get fit and healthy. Become musical again. I wish I’d brought my flute. It’s not been touched for a decade.
One week until Greenland, and still no word about visas. ‘One week until’ may end up being ‘four months more’ living a life of leisure. Do I really want to hang around if that happens?
One week until Greenland, and I’ve just bought a dress from the fifties. It’s way too thin for this time of the year. Will I wear it if they reject my visa?
At least the sun will be shining. I hope.
One week until Greenland, and then I will finally see my love for the first time in a long time, for more than two weeks. I am starting to forget this stranger. It’s been four weeks together in the past eleven months.
One week until Greenland, and with a few steps teetering off the plane, it all begins anew.