Yes. It's there again. The black hole. I have a fever (so I'm allowed to whine) and I miss my home. It's been a month now, and I still wake up in the morning thinking that I'm there, and I still have the constant feeling of waiting until this long vacation in the north ends. I miss driving to work, looking at the same torn asphalt and the same tree at Kotti and feeling perfectly happy. I miss the feeling of always having the next great adventure waiting around the corner. I miss that everything's crispy and interesting. I miss the feeling of utter and sheer happiness that lived inside me for all that time. I knew that it would be hard going back, but it feels like hitting a wall everyday. Despite actually loving my work and seeing friends. It's just not the same in old Copenhagen. This will be the last I'm-sad-about-having-left-Berlin-post.