There is a town and in that town there is a castle on a rock. Below that castle there is a tree. In autumn the tree is covered in red berries.
Also there is a house in that town. And in that house is my flat.
I go left when I leave the flat. All the houses on my street are glued to each other and therefore they seem like one long house to me. At the end of this «house» I turn right and walk down the street. I’m already used to looking right first when crossing the road. I’ve already learnt the bus routes. I’m good at navigating in the city. I barely use the maps anymore. Yet I still can’t believe this all is happening to me. Feels weird to have two homes…I wait for 27 bus service. Here it comes, turning my way, whilst 8 bus service goes straight. I put my coins into the box, one pound sixty pence to be precise. I stopped converting pounds into rubles and now one pound sixty pence doesn’t look like a big sum to pay for the ride.
Bus number 27 slowly goes up the hill. I’m sitting on the upper deck and of course I’m staring out of the window. I almost miss my stop but in the very last moment I run down the stairs. One day I will fall from this bus stairs, but not today.
I get off at the National gallery and go down to the Princes Street Gardens. I’m slipping on the wet leaves while I’m running to the foot of the Castle. There is a big tree growing there which I fell in love with the other day.
Johanna is already waiting for me. She wasn’t disappointed in my yellow coat and I was in awe of her look. I love nordic beauty.
Our autumn morning was fast; and the portraits we made have the exquisite bitterness of rowan wine.