Now. The day has come. Of course! The returning trip is unavoidable. Logico. But I honestly don't have the feeling, the longing, that now it's time to go back to the secure daily life. Normally the sense of homesick is over me after 2-3 weeks at holiday. It's sits in my stumick like a big lump of longing that won't go away. But it has this time been replaced by a oppressive feeling. Like this is wrong. That I don't belong to the plane from Rio de Janeiro to London, and then from London to Copenhagen. I belong at warm, loving Rio. At least for one more month. Please? But nope, I have to go home to sour, introspective, rainy, usual Denmark. Damn, damn, damn.