#60 | bank head

The rest of summer slipped through my fingers, a whirlwind of travel, friends coming to town, and more late nights on the dance floor. In late August, I spontaneously booked a solo trip to Copenhagen and spent a whole week wandering museums and shops, biking, and journaling while eating buttered bread and sipping on glasses of wine. The singular black muji pen I packed ran dry from recording every observation and reflection, especially with nobody else to talk to but my notebook. Every night I would return to the hotel at 10 pm, shower, and then watch tv until I fell asleep. In September, I went to St. Louis to spend a weekend with an old friend. I hadn't seen them in a few years—we're both not great at texting or calling, and are from different hometowns—but I still considered them a close friend. In high school, we frequently stayed up all night doing homework and then slept together in their twin-sized bed. They were one of the first people I called after my breakup happened, but I…