These pristine snow filled days are a fitting end. They stretch out from my window, a blank white sea. A turned page. Starting afresh. Full of possibility. There is always another path to plough. When I return here in January the pussycat will have slunk away, on his way home. But it is impossible not to leave footprints in the snow. Those who leave can no do so secretly.

This term, (over used phrase, as is the repetitions praise to come) has been extraordinary. I know there are those among us who think I am foolish, for being so emotionally open and for considering the social situation of Skandinavistisk Två something special. It will not last. This I know. We are international students. For many these friendships have been a gloss on the surface. Not something to invest in. Not something to bryr sig om.

I beg to differ. We were thrown together by the Swedish education system. Another conflicting area of Swedish grammar. We are exceptions to the numerous rules. Because there is no order. There is no 1+2=3 without fail. We equal something intangible. There have been moments of simple wonder. Pure joy. Uncomplicated laughter. There is nothing more precious. There has been no need for sophisticated jokes, cliques and prejudice. In this, we have all been children. We are learning to communicate again, where words fail we resort to other means. There is something strange, unknown and exciting in all of us.

To snooze in a room full of warm, well-fed people is a luxury not to be sniffed at. Sitting round the table, swirling red wine and drifting away into sweet reverie. It is good to embrace the moment. They may be few and far between. Korean drinking games, awkward questions and the unending relationship debate. I have never felt so connected with a group – without shame, paranoia or the sickening pressure - feeling like I am wasting time.

These people arrived on the pages of my book a few short days after I painted that horrible plywood creation. A plane of jealous, accusing faces, claiming ”you don’t know who we are.” I have rarely felt so isolated and alone. The fear was consuming. I was on the defensive. I looked offensive. I did not want to know who you were. Pre-school panic compounded with post-partnership pain. This has been a period of trial and error. Testing boundaries and borders. Thankfully eight months of therapy can not be ignored.

Who knows what the catalyst was. A burn, a painting, a tattoo, a trip to the UK or a furry new friend. I dare say they complimented each other. But none of it would have been possible without a change in attitude. I know how to be happy; I just needed to teach myself. I know how to stay happy; I just need to remind myself.

One of the simplest ways to experience well being is to write someone a letter of gratitude. It is not gratuitous. The effects may only be short term, but learning to say something good about another person, helps us to see the good in ourselves. It helps us to appreciate that which we have, not begrudge that which we are always striving to achieve.

Life is as simply beautiful as we dare to make it. If we appreciate the existence of our friends, teachers and even fiends, smile because the sun shines, wonder at glittering snow as it falls through white street lighting, laugh at the slips, mistakes and the bruises, savor the meals cooked by friends, breath deep and give as much as we take. Life is already beautiful. We do not need the car, the position and the clothes from some trashy high-street fashion.

It is more than enough just to be here and love it.

Thank you all.