White bench. Down by the harbour. I didn´t take any pictures. He has very strong eyes.
“What happened?” I say, he says “We lost”
It´s the first time I met him in the flesh. He dosn´t look like I expected him to.
He has many pseudonyms.
We drink beer. Danes drink beer. Danes drink beer down by the harbour in the minor towns, danes watch the happy shiny people strolling by, the incoming boats of the privileged, we´re not far from Hans Christian Andersens house, this is fairytale nation.
“It´s just… a lot of people gave up. That´s what happened. They gave up”
The Copenhagen climate conference. That time the police dragged kicking and screaming and desperate refugees out of a church, women, children, men, desperate people on the run, churches are no sanctuary, not anymore, where are the sanctuaries? I remember that incident. It was right before we ran to the forest, the last nail in our political coffin, I remember, I remember the images, I remember the activists, I remember the Copenhagen Climate Conference, what a disgrace!
“Did you know that you were also fighting for me? Did you know a lot of us depended on you. We supported you, we just didn´t know how to, did you know?”
He never answered that question.
That whole day went by and he didn´t answer.
I like talking with him. The conversation flows like a river, it feels like a dance, these are images of a dance
“A lot of people went down” he says I say “How” and he tell me how they had to drive each other to the mental hospitals and in those times of grief none of them were able to fight the institutions they recent, fight the machine, not anymore “are you not fighting anymore” I say and he says “yeah, I am” but then he sigh and his eyes fixate on the horizon and I just want to hold him.
Sometimes something like that happens.
You get flooded.
I was flooded with love.
We talk about deep green resistance, we talk about strategies of escape, we talk about solidarity, the need of basis groups, we talk about capitalism, communism, we talk about stories.
The importance of different stories.
I tell him.
“I had an idea” I say I say “I felt kind of called upon” and with his strong eyes he looks at me and then I tell him and then he nods and then he says “ok” that what he says and this will not be the last of it.
It was a good day.
We are finding each other, like magnets drawn towards some kind of invisible energy field, it´s happening and the time is now.
This is the tree that guards the entrance to my favorite forest in Denmark. Tomorrow I´m going home.
Home to the hippies.