Danish Gothic

holmganga:

  • You don’t live far from the sea. No-one does. It’s ever present, so near. You know it well, and you know that one day, when the time is right, it will take what it is owed
  • They’re discussing youth drinking again. “Danish youth drinks the most in all of Europe!” you hear them say. You can’t tell if they’re concerned or proud. 
  • You’ve always been told that you’re able to understand Swedish. You’re not sure if you are. You do your best to pretend to be. 
  • “We’re the happiest people in the world!” they say with a laugh. “They did a study!” they repeat, as if you didn’t already know. You aren’t happy. None of your friends are happy. You know something lies behind. You let it be. It is better to let it be.
  • You look out the window. It looks sunny. When you step outside, tricked by the promises of a distant sun, it’s freezing. You should have known not to trust the weather. 
  • As you walk on the street, you look through the store windows. The signs are in English. As is the music you’re listening to. And the movie you watched yesterday. You’re not sure what “Danish” is anymore. Half the words you say are in English. Soon, they all will be.  
  • It’s raining again. You don’t care.
  • Someone you know just got their bike just got stolen. Your hand clenches around the handle of your own metal steed as you pray that a similar fate will never befall it. They can’t have your’s. 
  • It’s winter. “It’s so cold!” they all exclaim. In summer, they all exclaimed: “It’s so hot!” It’s like this every year, an endless cycle older than time. You wonder, as you do every year, if you’re the only one who still remembers. 

Monday, February 29 2016 2,270 notes


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