What's your story, Copenhagen?
I have been here for three weeks now and I'm still wondering. You never talk. Never attempt eye contact. Even when I look at you, you shy and look away. What's going on there, inside your head? What mysteries thrive in the criss-cross of your numerous lanes and in the quiet of your green recluses? What does the wind carry when it blows over your cold grey-blue ingresses of water?
In my room, I can hear the cars zooming down the highway, all day. In the mornings, I can hear the birds chirp. Sometimes, late into the night, I can even hear the rain falling on the cobbled footpaths and the trees rustling with the wind. But, rarely, very rarely do I hear people talk, walking under the artistic street lamps.
Why are you so afraid of people listening in? Your privacy you guard with a knightly fierceness.
Yet, I've never felt so comfortable being out on my own in the streets, on a crowded bus, riding an elevator, visiting a mall or any of those places where you would typically find yourself surprised by a traffic of people. It's liberating to be just a part of that traffic: not caring about other people's business and, blessedly, not having to care about people caring about your business. Your privacy you can learn to prize.
Does it get lonely? I am waiting to find out. So far I have been too excited with the freedom to just enjoy solitude to worry about it.
Copenhagen, I may never fully know your story, but I must thank you for giving me the space to work on my own.
*Picture Courtesy: Wikipedia
I have been here for three weeks now and I'm still wondering. You never talk. Never attempt eye contact. Even when I look at you, you shy and look away. What's going on there, inside your head? What mysteries thrive in the criss-cross of your numerous lanes and in the quiet of your green recluses? What does the wind carry when it blows over your cold grey-blue ingresses of water?
In my room, I can hear the cars zooming down the highway, all day. In the mornings, I can hear the birds chirp. Sometimes, late into the night, I can even hear the rain falling on the cobbled footpaths and the trees rustling with the wind. But, rarely, very rarely do I hear people talk, walking under the artistic street lamps.
Why are you so afraid of people listening in? Your privacy you guard with a knightly fierceness.
Yet, I've never felt so comfortable being out on my own in the streets, on a crowded bus, riding an elevator, visiting a mall or any of those places where you would typically find yourself surprised by a traffic of people. It's liberating to be just a part of that traffic: not caring about other people's business and, blessedly, not having to care about people caring about your business. Your privacy you can learn to prize.
Does it get lonely? I am waiting to find out. So far I have been too excited with the freedom to just enjoy solitude to worry about it.
Copenhagen, I may never fully know your story, but I must thank you for giving me the space to work on my own.
Beautiful blog post. Looking forward to reading more of your writing.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!
ReplyDeleteHey keep posting such good and meaningful articles.
ReplyDelete