London Live

Oh to be back in London. To speak English again. Where all the Japanese cherry trees are already blossoming. To feel free. I know it's silly. I know I complained no end when I was here, over the tube, the weather, my job, the pushiness and aggressiveness. But is it fair, I ask you, for London to slap me in the face with three days of brilliant sunshine, spring green tree, happy friends and cheap tapas bars?

No, London is using dirty tricks on me. And London always has new tricks up its sleeve, whereas Copenhagen just keeps repeating the same old songs: Sitting in Christiania, singing "you can't kill us, we're part of yourself" and I think yes I feel at home here, but am I not singing the same songs my parents did when they were my age?

Is there nothing new in Copenhagen, or is it just me, who refuses to see the new things, whose mind shriks back everytime someone starts to talk about anything not strictly personal, thinking please please don't say what I expect you to say, surprise me! and then they say that sweet, familiar, logical, and ooooh so Danish thing I expected them to say, and my heart sinks in dissapointment.

It gives me no pleasure to feel that I belong and to feel at home anymore. It makes me feel trapped.