Recently I was discussing my friendships with Sof, my best friend. I always introduce her as my best friend to people as if we’re grade school children and not in our thirties. I don’t care. I always will, so people are welcome to get used to the notion. You two are my closest because you both are the two people that I feel I can tell anything to and receive the least amount of judgement. That’s good enough for me. Anyway, Sof was pointing out to me that I seem to have a Skandinavian problem among my friend group. I can’t stop myself. There’s you, her and then Sof in London. I’ve felt very close to all of you at some point or another. So what is it? I’ll be the first to say, all my friends are beautiful. Not only are they good looking on the inside, but usually the exterior is a perfect match. I do believe being gorgeous on the inside tends to radiate through your skin. But why do so many of my closest gal pals end up being from the Nordic region of planet Earth?
I summed it up like this: You lot are rough stones. You don’t grin from ear to ear from the minute we meet, instead you smile quietly but warmly. You won’t talk my ear off at first, but you’ll drop a dirty joke out of the blue that will leave me clutching my sides from the pain of laughing. I have to chip away at the surface here and there. But I always find once I really start to dig, there’s a gem just waiting to shine brightly beneath. The sentence you wrote about the reward being immense, makes perfect sense. But it’s something you have explained so eloquently and precisely. I find my friendships with both you and Sof have been instantaneous but a constant process of chipping away at a beautiful rock and finding more and more layers to love. There is nothing superficial about it. It’s like something constantly being washed by the sea.
(Sketch by Francisco Leonardo)