… to Boston, MA

“Could I have a chowdah please?”; Boston; the Bean city, and the place where I suddenly dropped eating meat.
It’s where I realized the Swedish west coast had to stand defeated in terms of chilly winter winds when they cold-heartedly slapped us in the face and almost blew away petit mexican pals. It’s where 2 Starbucks in between school and home rubbed me blank during the course of 6 months.

It’s where morning showers meant new world wars in tiny dorms and nights bags under our eyes. It’s where I got half schooled in sailing and kept cursing the dusty elevator for being “out of function” whilst climbing up five floors five times a day. It’s where I officially lost control of sleep, “I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to scare you” while blending in with the curtain. It’s where 219 become not only where I slept– it become home.

It’s where my newly turned 17 year old heart always will remain a Back Bay girl and where Beacon Street still will be home and my old running route would be 5.3km and named “Charles River”. It’s where there were no troubles that toughened my skin but where I regained the ability of hardwork, and it’s where I had to say goodbye to friends that only moved “a few states away” but that later meant the other side of the world. It’s where my closet only was black and white due to bad packing, and it’s where skyping’ only would be done in a tiny closet.

Boston will always be where a piece of my heart beats and it will always be the place where I fell in love with the East Coast, and parks meant squirrels, and the top of the building only belonged to a few people. It’s where you looked out the window you saw the most gorgeous street on the planet, and that street was called Beacon St.