Copenhagen is the feeling you get when you watch the rain fall in metronomic plummets. Chrysalism. The city carries a soft Scandinavian tranquility, relaxed but distant. It is almost as if it forgot that it is no longer a small fishing village, stuffed with sensible solitude and seatrout, but a commune of commerce containing more than one million people. Maybe, for the Danes, the darkness of wearisome winter casts a shadow on friendly frivolity.
Everything in Copenhagen is centered, curated, and collected. Sure, there are problems behind the punctual politeness, but it isn’t easy to see, eyes on the Baltic Sea instead.
The city is as clean as a long white linen skirt, or the crisp red of the Danish flag against a rare warm blue sky.
Someone sits, back to the boats, playing a tune so soft, so muted, it sounds like it is being played underwater.
If you are in Copenhagen, get a bicycle. You’ll get around faster.
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