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I am eating Portuguese custard tarts, something I have dreamed of doing eight years ago, in Stockholm, a place I have dreamed of living in three and a half years ago. I love how I make my dreams come true. I am sitting in a room, a room I have first stepped in two years ago, the first time I came to Sweden. The first room of many rooms to come, not knowing that the boy who opened the door for me would be a significant part of my life in the future. And I think of all the places where I will be, and places where love is, and places waiting for me. And of people who will open those doors.

I love how dreams turn, how they change, how they surprise you, how they can still be the same even when they are different.