Shakespeare and Nostalgia | Day 153 of my 2023 Journal
For the past week, I have fantasized about moving back to Copenhagen.
How I love this city. It is my people. It is my language. It is my homeland.
Everywhere I go reminds me of something that happened or someone I know, all the stories and vibes and songs.
The city itself is beautiful, and even though I find the cultural movements generally moving in the wrong direction, some first-movers and avant-gardists are working with significant and powerful stuff.
Of course, I know it is nostalgia. Of course, I know it is a trick of the mind. The sun is shining. I have all the time in the world. I have borrowed an amazing apartment in the center. Everything that has to be fixed is not my problem. There is nothing on the calendar. The chestnut is blooming.
Obviously, it is amazing right now. It is Copenhagen at best—my life at best.
And I know one of the great things about it is the fact I am only here for a week.
I will not feel all the downsides of being in the same place too long; I will enjoy every enjoyable element of the city and its people and places and moods because I know I have to. Because I know I am leaving.
A friend of mine told me about a Shakespeare open-air play in one of the central parks, and we went to see it in the midst of my excitement and nostalgia. I have to walk slowly and mindfully to stay happy and balanced, but when I pay attention, I am in my best place, my here and now, my high vibe.
It was The Tempest, a play I had never heard about. It was funny, moving, relevant, brutal, existential, full of insanity and love (Shakespeares' favorite mix), tragedy and comedy, ribbing out the innermost vulnerable elements of human life and bending it in neon.
At the same time, “SHAKES” interpreted the whole thing in a chaotic contrast between recycling, modernity, craziness, high culture, and tradition.
We loved it. We loved it. And we were together, all of us plus a few friends.
The summer night kept opening, the darkness never dark, our hearts full, and something deep healing all by itself.
Love and light
Where are we now?
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