Maja,

I cycled past the old place on Jagtvej today. The yellow you painted on the balcony in '08 has gone the colour of weak tea, but it is unmistakably yours. Some young couple lives there now. They have hung a wind chime, which I would have hated then and find I do not mind now.

The kommune has me drafting consultation papers about the cooling canopies over Assistens — the shade pulls fifteen degrees off the path in July, which is good, except the old plane trees underneath get confused and bud in October. So we keep adjusting. The trees, too, I think.

Sofie sent me a clip of Liv graduating. I watched it three times. She has your mouth when she is trying not to smile. I had to walk to the kitchen and stand there for a minute.

It is nothing — just a Tuesday. Bjarke is making me dinner. The light over Nørrebro at this hour still does the thing it used to do, where everything looks slightly forgiven. I thought you would want to know the city is still here, and so am I.

A.

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