There is a local legend that the hill was designed this way so that by the time you reach the heavy wooden doors of the church, you have left your breath—and your worries—somewhere back at the bottom.
She reached the crest of the hill where the street finally leveled out. The wind was sharper here, carrying the faint salt-tang of the Baltic Sea. Lumi looked back down the long, straight line of Porthaninkatu, watching the tiny red glows of taillights receding into the distance. F4D72477-E94F-4F33-99D2-D13FB495A1A9.jpeg
The climb was over. She turned toward the church, the stone tower now glowing under the floodlights, and felt, for the first time all day, like she was finally home. Expand map Photo Landmarks Neighborhood There is a local legend that the hill