It’s cold and raining in Stockholm, and I’m back to work as usual. Soon Istanbul Express will fade into memory as a month-long dream about trains, films and fleeridden hostels. And about wonderful, wonderful people. But I guess we will have the films to remind us, me more than others, as I have a few hundred gigabytes of making-of clips to go through. Right now for example, I can remind myself of how, just a few nights ago, two beautiful french girls serenaded me goodbye on my last night in Istanbul. (with a little help by two beautiful french guys)
I miss you all.