Aug 10, 2007


Home again. And I have not found my feet here yet. After two weeks of architectural hedonism. I seem to have left them behind. I think I know when it happened.

The last couple of days I'd been looking forward to the fresh Copenhagen breeze, the cool sheets of my bed, perhaps even a little dusty rain...

I guess also for other travellers than myself the turning point arrives as we approach the airport check-in. Nearing it one begin to sense something. At first it's a low mutter. Then sprawled clusters of strangers. Finally forming into the dradful line of fellow countrymen. Reminding you what you are going back to. This could have been anticipated but is blissfully forgotten. Mentally surpressed. You find yourself in a world of arguing parents, trying to get ahead in line, complaining, taking bloody ages... And you're forced to stand there with them. Sharing loud stories of local incompetence. Not even aboard the plane - but already engulfed in dreary Danishness.

And that's when my feet left me.

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