I’m fond of this photo. It’s not so much for the hop-on harbor tour it commemorates, nor for the jaw-dropping Vasamuseet towering just out of frame. It’s not even because of that obvious first-week, anything-is-possible, life-is-effing-beautiful, shit-eating grin that’s plastered on my face – testimony to how much I already loved this city by Day 3. All great memories, but no…I like this photo because it remains the last known sighting of my bare forearms outside. Adjö, summer clothes. I will miss you.