I sometimes feel like I grew up with a suitcase always packed and ready to go. Maybe I did: when I was three weeks old, my parents and I moved to Paris, and while they - some years later - were keen to go back to Denmark, I never really lost my appetite for moving around in other parts of the world. It's not that I don't like Denmark, but I'm just too curious to not go outside the country borders. So as you read this, I'm sitting on a plane high up in the skies, on my way to Montréal. The latest chapter in my nomad-life. It's one I've been anxious to get started on, and now it's finally happening. As of today, I no longer have an adress in Denmark, and I'm now officially a Dane of the world. It feels utterly, deeply, most profoundly right. I can't wait to take you with me to Montréal! Stay tuned...
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