Dear Rasmus,

I wonder who you are. Where you are, and when you owned my mobile number. Obviously, I don’t know you. But it feels like I do. In the past three months, I’ve received a phone call almost every other day asking for you. From different corners of the world, organizations and companies I’ve never heard of before. All asking me the same thing: can you put me through to Rasmus?

And diligently, exasperatedly, unfailingly I say “no”. Doesn’t mean I don’t wonder though. Who is Rasmus and where did he go?

And why didn’t he update his number?

I complain about it during conversations with friends sometimes. We end up imagining different story lines:

“Maybe he’s wanted by the police and had to throw his phone away”

“Maybe he decided he has no use for a phone anymore”

“Maybe he’s dead”

“Maybe he owes people money and decided to abscond”

A lot of scenarios— none of them possible to verify of course.

It really makes me think. How impossible it is to know anybody else’s circumstance. How fixated we are in our own little lives. How everyone in this world has a story that we know nothing about, a background that’s maybe unimaginable to us.

Today, on my train ride back home from work, my phone buzzed again. A text reading “Hey Rasmus. We haven’t heard from you in a while. Call us if you’re still interested”.

I’d guess Rasmus is not interested, judging from his silence. I hope they get the hint.

Dear Rasmus. If you’re reading this, here is a reminder to change your mobile number.

Kind regards,
The new owner of your previous number