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I am hardly alone in being a daydreamer. There are likely more than a few who, sometimes consciously or unconsciously, let their thoughts run free and travel to places far, far away. In my case, it is almost always music that opens the door to daydreaming; sometimes so discreetly that I barely notice before I am already somewhere else, and other times so obviously that my consciousness gets to enjoy the ride from start to finish, almost as if my "normal" self is observing my daydreaming self from the outside. The latter happens every time I listen to Billy Joel's "New York State of Mind," and I always end up in the same place, even though I don't exactly know where in the world it is. It usually looks like this:
A harsh autumn wind tears up the red, yellow, and orange leaves from the ground. The sky is gray and mottled, and I hurry to the place I always go to at this time of year. Once inside, the staff greets me warmly. It is warm, cozy, small, and urban. I wrap my flushed hands around the warm paper cup of soup I just ordered and sit down just outside on one of the rickety chairs. The soup is well-seasoned, smooth, and filling. I listen to the music leaking through the café's window and feel all my problems wash away as I drink the warm liquid. Around me, life's hustle and stress swirl, but in the little bubble I've sat into, there is nothing but calm and pleasure. I am reminded of why I always come here.
When the cup is empty, I rise and take the first steps away from the pleasant warmth and out into the autumn chill. Normally, I continue walking until I am back where I came from, but today I did not. I stopped. "Where am I really?" I think to myself as I turn around to remember the name of the place. A feeling of inevitability fills me as I read the text on the black metal sign that swings back and forth in the wind like a pendulum.
Of course, there is no other place like this one - where the staff is always friendly, the food (and the treats) always feels lovingly homemade, and all guests can switch from the feeling of a stressful everyday life to what is born here. The carrot cake could have been a bit more flavorful, but that doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things. For it is always just as cozy, always just as affordable, and I always get the same almost magical feeling of being here.
So it wasn't entirely true what I wrote in the introduction, because I actually now know exactly where this place is located. It is to Olof Palmes gata 12 that I flee, together with Billy Joel. It is at "Le Violon Dingue" that I find my "New York State of Mind."
I am hardly alone in being a daydreamer. There are likely more than a few who, sometimes consciously or unconsciously, let their thoughts run free and travel to places far, far away. In my case, it is almost always music that opens the door to daydreaming; sometimes so discreetly that I barely notic...
