Helsinki Travel Quotes

While I was swimming in the pool the other day, I was thinking about all kinds of things. About you, about Helsinki. I’m not sure how to put it, maybe like swimming upstream, back to my gut feelings.” “While you were swimming?” “I can think well when I’m swimming.” Sara paused for a time, as if impressed. “Like a salmon.” “I don’t know much about salmon.” “Salmon travel a long way. Driven by something,” Sara said. “Did you ever see Star Wars?” “When I was a kid.” “May the force be with you,” she said. “So you don’t lose out to the salmon.

And something about the rawness of life with the baby was like the rawness of travel, the way it laid you open to the clear blue nerves. You were the five senses pouring down an unknown street; you were the slap of your shoes and hot paper of your palms, streaming past statues of regional Madonnas. The indelibility of a certain thrift shop in Helsinki, the smell of foreign decades in the lining of one leather coat. The loop of "Desert Island Disk" in a certain coffee shop in Cleveland, where the owner warned her not to have a second detoxifying charcoal latte because it would "flush the pills out of her system and get her pregnant". The bridges of other cities, where she would watch their drab green rivers buoy up their rainbow-necked ducks, where she would drink espresso until there was a free and frightening exchange between her and the day--- she was open, flung open, anything could rush in.