A Cold October Morning in Copenhagen
It is so cold.
I’ve been sick for maybe a week… or more.
I’m not sure I’ve fully recovered yet — I’m constantly freezing.
Copenhagen, under its greyish sky.
I was struck by a blessing from Mother Universe: the chance to stay in a gorgeous apartment while I’m here.
An apartment that feels like a warm hug.
Exactly what I needed to recover — that, plus a mountain of napkins, garlic-chili soup, pillows, and blankets.
This period will be tough — tougher than summer, that’s for sure — because now the cold has come.
We won’t see much sun for a while, and even though I love Copenhagen with all my heart, sometimes I look out the window and wonder… why?
But I take that back.
I love it here. It’s just the sickness talking.
This morning, I woke up early to go to the office.
I knew it was going to be a busy day, so I wanted to get there early and stay long — finish a few things, feel productive.
I recently bought myself a leather jacket — my first purchase in a year.
I really wanted it.
And it makes me feel good.
I was dressed all in black, layered up, feeling stylish, confident — Scandinavian style.
Cold. Well… not cold, exactly. Just crisp. The air was fresh. Rain was coming. Winter is coming.
As I was walking down the street, I noticed this guy ahead of me.
He looked so stylish.
I’ll try to describe him — I’m not great at fashion, but let’s see.
Black stofa pants, straight cut, not skinny.
Actually, I don’t even remember the rest.
But he looked amazing. Great style, effortlessly confident.
And there I was, walking behind him, both of us heading toward the metro.
He passed a shop window and caught his reflection — I could sense he was proud of his outfit.
It said things about him.
That he knew how to dress.
That he was comfortable in his skin.
That he probably had some money — his clothes looked quality, maybe designer.
And watching him admire himself in that reflection, I realized — I had done the same earlier.
When I left the building, feeling confident in my black leather jacket.
I was carrying a pink grapefruit juice, and I even thought that the color — the only color in my outfit — made me cooler.
I wore my big black sunglasses, as always.
I’d wear them all the time if I could. (Sometimes I do, until the evening comes and I can’t see a thing.)
As I walked, I started observing people.
An old lady walking her dog.
A young woman in jeans, talking fast on the phone.
So many people, each with their own stories.
The street belonged to all of them — to all of us.
And I started thinking…
These same streets once belonged to generations before us —
50 years ago, 100, 200, 300.
The same places, just different times, different looks.
People walked here,
felt proud of their clothes,
fell in love,
cried,
rushed to work,
got sick,
got better.
They all had their stories.
I kept watching in the metro — the subtle smile of someone texting.
Maybe they’re meeting the love of their life today.
Teenage boys heading to school.
Old ladies having coffee.
All of this — this moment, this city — belongs to each one of us.
And for each of us, what matters most are the things happening right now in our own lives.
For me, it was my outfit and my busy day at work.
Refining my style.
Becoming more myself.
For the stylish boy in front of me?
Maybe it was his outfit too.
Maybe he had a date tonight.
Maybe he just went through a breakup and is finding his new self again.
The point is — this is our stage now.
Passed on through generations.
We each get our time under the light.
And while we’re here — walking the same streets as those before us —
we’d better fucking enjoy it.
Give it all you’ve got.
Dress how you want.
Express yourself.
Let yourself be.
Colors, darks, leather, fluffy things — whatever feels right.
Do it.
We only get this stage once.
This is a freak show —
so be the biggest freak you can be,
and have fun with it.
We’re all freaks, all stories.
Be kind.
Sometimes laughter, gossip, and judgement are
masks we wear to hide what feels too vulnerable.
Other times, they are sparks that push us to stand up,
to show who we are, to embrace the stage.
Understanding diversity takes time.
We all evolve.
We all change.
The key is to never stop growing.
And for god’s sake —
put on a fucking show.
You’ll regret it if you don’t.
Because trust me —
you are the one judging yourself the most.
Other people don’t care that much.
And if you show who you are with confidence,
they’ll either love it —
or wish they could do the same.
We need more people like that.
So please.
Take the stage.
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