GOOD TO BE BACK as well. It’s not at all bad weather, far from it, the sun is out, the air is cool, there’s a kind of sweet, autumn feeling about, kuidagi mõnus sügisene tunne, and the market is full of berries, yellow potatoes, beans and even mushrooms, big, floppy beautiful ones. I got a good batch of blackberries, my favorite, but watch out, they stain. Tallinn. I guess I belong here, how natural it felt to just glide back into place at a cafe, pull out a pen or a keyboard, jot down some thoughts or type out a column. I’m a savage perfectionist as a writer. I write plenty of mediocre claptrap that never sees the eyes of the world. Long-winded essays that meander, go nowhere. No dialogue, no story.
Story is of the utmost importance though. Story is everything. Here begins another chapter of my story after a good long soak in the United States, where I re-acclimated, only to have to switch back into Estonian again (how funny, I have been writing in Estonian all these weeks, but to actually speak it again feels forced, stiff, not fluid). I’ve spent so much of my life here though it’s in my bones one way or the other. Those potatoes. Those piles of red and black currants. I know why the local people love them. The lines of girls behind the counters and they are so pretty with their yellow straw hair. This not in some lecherous way, they’re just beautiful. What a special, funny little place.