I walk and walk, getting to know this beautiful city more and more.
I still wake up some days, not able to see the point in going nowhere, but when I, like today, get myself out there, I love it. I search the faces of people walking the streets. I watch what people wear and make up little stories in my head, as to where they are going, who they’re meeting, and what their lives are like. I see evening dresses worn as daywear, big ugly boots and impossibly high heels, tartan, lace, torn nylons, bikerjackets, homemade knit scarves and finally sunglasses. I wonder at the way people walk, run, linger and stop to greet friends, eyes lighting up.
I look into eyes of strangers passing, trying to fathom whether they’re happy or sad. Mindful? Awake? Observant? I roam the streets, seeking out the sunniest spots, feeling the wind play with my hair, dress and with *my* homemade knit scarf.
Wander around Nyhavn, smell the salt in the air and feel the warmth of the sun on my face and colour the inside of my eyelids bright orange. Admire the first outdoorsy types, wrapped up in jackets and blankets but bravely eating outside in the restaurants under the colured facades of the beautiful houses. Eating, talking, reading papers or holding hands. Waiters wrapped up warmly, balancing beer and bowls of peanuts on trays, taking orders in different languages.
And I totally, blissfully forget myselv for a few hours. Just wandering, wondering, and getting to know this enchanted place. A few tourists ask me for directions, and I answer in English and Italian: “I don’t know, I’m new around here.”
Seems I look like I might be home here, I could get used to it.
I think I will.