Days 27 & 28

The last couple of days were as uneventful as the first update I failed to post on time. Knowing that I would be writing this post from a window seat, strapped in for the next twelve hours as I travelled through Germany and Denmark, made it easy to justify pushing it back.

0 pages. I didn’t even pick up my book.

I couldn’t really tell you what I used those 48 hours for. Maybe that’s because, after the last six months, I just needed to halt for a second.

I made my own rain cloud and wore it as the world’s saddest birthday hat over the weekend I was supposed to spend planning, packing, and looking forward to the trip. Arguably the best part of any journey when you live inside your mind and seldom return to the body.

The heat consumed whatever brain power I had left. I think I entered a state of dissociation sometime after sweat began gathering in places that should never stay damp for longer than three seconds.

Day 29 (Before the Update)

It’s currently 9:27 am, and we have already managed to spend three hours without even feeling the effects of a four-hour sleep. Our departure time was 6:30, and I knew how a rushed morning, limited by public transport because of the time, combined with a heatwave, could ruin my summer before I had even left home.

Clouds began stacking into layers of their own as we entered Dresden, and petrichor infiltrated the carriage through the air vents beneath every passenger’s windowsill as the metallic scent of ozone filled the wagon.

A dagger on my window. Rain. Finally.

I’ve already watched How to Get Her Back, the film I had been saving as a reward, so it’s time to open the book I’ve been consciously avoiding. Opting for a film about a woman who starts a blog after a breakup didn’t make me feel any less productive.

Nine hours on the clock. Ten stations, each allowing exactly three minutes to step off the train, have a cigarette, and make sure I haven’t misjudged the whistle.

I still move like a child whenever the train stops, skipping down onto unfamiliar platforms, terrified it’ll leave without me. The difference is that it’s my mind that feels older now. Less flexible. I crave plans, even for something as simple as reading. Bathroom trips become logistical exercises designed not to disturb anyone.

Destination: Copenhagen.

I hope to bring good news this evening, and that it includes a page count.