Genesis again

Arriving back in Helsinki is strange.

I have to re insert the language chip. I can count to five in Finnish then it becomes Turkish. I tell myself that "kiitos" rolls off the tongue but I say "tesekkurler"instead.

I don't know what floor I live on. Third or Fourth. I press both, and at third, realise the door of the lift doesn't look right so it must be fourth. I peer out and read the door plates at fourth and sheepishly push the button for fifth... Ah so that's where I live.

The flat is warm and stale. It's still light though it's close to 11pm. The sky is turning an electric blue.

I can tell The Finn has been here. But there are no notes, nothing nice, nothing personal or tender. Just a presence. I work to cover it. The Finn has not returned messages. He called after a request some time after he learned I was in hospital. It can't be more over than that.

The sadness overwhelms me. There is no warmth in this flat aside from the heat from the walls baked in the day's sun. There is no warmth in this country. I think of Turkish men who cried when they said goodbye. I think of the compassion shown when caring for me ill. I compare it to Finland and sink into the sofa knowing that I am going to have to start all over again, find people, remind them who I am, and why it might be nice to exchange moments in life.

I wander the small steps of the house, reminding myself where things are and what is not there anymore.