copenhagen

It was time for me to leave the Gardens of Odense and set foot again in the blank painting of discovery. Christina had made me a lunch box and she wished me good luck. As I left the green area of my newfound friends I wondered if I was ever going to see them again. I had really enjoyed my visit with them and surely I berated myself a little bit, wishing I could have enjoyed more, but as my feet guided me further towards the unknown I grudgingly accepted that I did not want to go back or change the past. My sustenance laid elsewhere. I had hope that I would return again after a few years and mingle with them more. For now, I wanted some impossible things and I could only rest if I had obtained these impossible things. A fairytale of love should be enough to keep me satisfied and I should be able to acquire this wish if I would only follow the road onwards, to new highways and the adventures that promised to wash over me in splendor and riches. Piet stopped with his car when he saw me hitchhiking. It was crazy to jump from one adventure into the next but that was what I did. I was going to Copenhagen this time. “I am not from the Netherlands kid, my parents just liked Piet as a name. But I have a Dutch boat! Oh. I know. Why don’t you name the boat? I just bought it and I could not come up with a name so far.”
It was fascinating to see how fast experiences could vary, the more I went deeper into my journey.
“Oh..! what about Wise Man?”
“Mmm…I like that Cestmir. Let’s go with that, although I will change it to Wise Woman. It is better that way I think.”
With every new stranger I met, I acquired new information about the mindset of the world. Even if people were different, they were all shaped by the same standards and mindset, Ideals and boundaries. Even countries don’t differ so much from each other. Internet has made us one big web of connection and I reaped the harvest by interacting with the people that I met and learning the trades of their personalities and perceptions. Their dreams and hopes and fears and worries were soaked in every word and gesture they inhabited and I loved to discover the pieces of their puzzle. It was honoring to see how they opened up and shared these intimate windows into their behavioral system. So many things could inflict change and growth into minds and souls. The world of boats could teach you a different array of tools and knowledge than the world of animals. Each having their own distinctive lessons and bearings. It was the beauty of aligning these worlds and letting them blend that gave me a spectrum of insight and I absolutely adored the capacity to jump from one lesson to the next, bringing along the loss and gain of forgetfulness and remembrance.
“You know Cestmir, saying goodbye has nothing to do with your incapability to stay. It just is a natural process of experimenting and failing and doing it again. As the world turns, we turn with it and experience the rising and falling of gravity.” As Piet explained to me, we were another piece of the cycle of nature. Another phenomenon that just procured a brain to calculate with but it was nothing more than a skill to monitor the world, humanity just thought they had gotten the power to change everything. Civilizations have come and wiped out the previous owner of the land time and time again. We disrupted nature and had damaged the earth. A constant wave of expression guided us through the ages and we interacted with the wave and history was forged out of the clash, but what if we use our ability to make history and create a constant wave of strive with it. To procure the knowledge that is needed to forge an alliance with experience. Life would be a classroom. A constant discovery of information about the adequacy of human. I would like that.
“The most humble thing you can do is to pass on the strength and the knowledge that you have obtained.”

My journey brought me to Copenhagen. Piet drove all the way and wished me good luck when I stepped out of the car. Fresh and peaceful were the display of emotions inside of me. I just discovered a new city! The mysteries and the secrets that lay still in the unknown future were immense. I had some adventure plans that I could do in the city but they could wait for the right time to be acknowledged. As I chose a direction and began to follow my footsteps a bridge came into view. This was some fine vantage point in which I could linger for a moment. I stood there. Life was presented to me as timeless moments that came by and left again. Who knew what my family was doing and if they missed me. I stood there, viewing a horizon that could be viewed upon by me. A dot in an endless sea of motions. Maybe adventure just needed some courage to stand still.
A girl with Dreadlocks and a basket full of food came to stand next to me. I felt a tingling of my senses wanting to speak to the girl. I tried to glance every so often without being noticed.  I felt a great adoration for her that made me silent. After a few minutes she turned to me and asked: “Would you like some fruit?”
“Yes. Do you want a poem?”

Our eyes met each other and a connection was made.
“My name is Emma.”
A hand was given to me.
“My name is Cestmir”

As she gave me some fruit she asked me where I was going.
“I just arrived, I have no idea where I am going.”
“Well then, you can come with me. I know which place you should visit.”

It seemed like adventure had taken me in her arms and rocked me as a little child as if she knew what I wanted. She gave me a guide and I was more than happy to move with the motion. Emma and I sat down in Christiania and started sharing stories. Christiania was a village inside Copenhagen. Full of hippies and weed. It was a nice place for the people who wanted to escape from the world. Emma told me she was a traveler for almost 5 years. A hitchhiker who came from America. She ate only raw food and followed lessons of making raw food. This was the first contact I made with a fellow traveler and to be honest I felt a little overwhelmed to meet her. I guess it was like meeting my old time hero. it made me feel alive and strong and I just wanted to say how my heart wielded for the connection that I felt between us. I wanted to shout out: “We are the same!”
It was most interesting to be able to talk to her.
She was the very first comrade in my travelling escapade that I met so of course I was excited to spend time with her. My senses caught a whim of her experience throughout those five years and I was wondering to myself how I could extract it, to learn from it and hear stories about the many wanderings that engraved her heart with knowledge. Unfortunately I still had not figured out how attraction worked and what it meant for me. This gave me a shyness in which I hid my longings. It was difficult for me to bypass my learning process of life and get out of my head. And it did not help that any question that remotely asked her to give me detailed secrets of her loneness was being refused gently. I felt that she didn’t know what to do with my curiosity and I began to write her poem instead. I asked her three words and it was nice to fall back on my writing and sit there with her. And then we heard a ruffle.
Our presence became noticeable: We saw a little girl coming from in between the trees. This little girl had colorful silken ornaments around her body. Her hair was brown as were her eyes and she graced herself with the bare footprints she left behind.
 With a charming smile she asked:
 “Can I sit with you? you two look nice.”

As she came closer I felt a strange feeling of respect come over me.
With a childish attitude she sat in front of us and mesmerized herself about my backpack. I smiled foolishly. I asked if could make her a poem also. The two lady’s had a good time talking to each other while I was writing the poems. Inspiration flowed again as I was dancing with the feelings that surrounded me. This eerie sense of respect dwelled in my head as I wrote the poem of the little girl. It pushed words on paper that wanted to express. I soon stopped writing when I heard the girl speak her story. My hand stopped it’s movement and I came back to what my surroundings gave me.
“I walked for two years and then came here…”
my mind expanded and I had to take the bait.
“Wait? You walked for two years?”
“Yes.”

The little girl was a story. Immediately I felt confronted with myself. Emma and I were both shocked and a little taken aback by the brazenness of what she revealed. It was a story wherein this little girl left on a journey.
“I was living with my parents but then I got put in a mental hospital because I was acting weird but I escaped and now I am here.”
She left and walked. In the way she said it, it was as if she did not think twice about it and her home was nothing more than an experience that had given her freedom. She had qualities that were powered by bravery and strength to accept elegantly the limitations of choice and she never made a fuss about it. She had felt an inevitable push towards being free from society, from her predestinate life and she followed it. For six months she travelled, hitchhiked: barefoot. The choice somehow wasn’t hers. It was decided from every experience she had been a part of, forming this longing for wildness within her. That her surroundings put her into a mental hospital was only the last drop of entanglement she couldn’t take. She was fourteen years old. I felt the world giving me a revelation: I had a natural arrogance that was blunt and It had no idea what it did but it wanted to be unpredictable. The residue of traumatic pain pulled my impulses to react with enthusiastic bursts of energy that startled the people I was most fond of. Seeing this little girl, going about so gently and self-contained gave me the challenge to seethe through the understanding I had of myself and ask myself If I stood for what I saw. For the first time I was confronted by the madness of freedom: This little girl had grown up in a world of restrictions and slowly obtained the resilience that made her rebel.
As it grew inside of her, pieces of her old self were chipped away bit by bit as if the acknowledgment that you did not want to be stuck in their opinion shattered the way you were. Revelations and epiphanies scoured the chances to attain new awareness. Yes! This is why I travelled! I had been stuck in a rhythm of expressing myself that I did not agree on. Stagnated I had gone through life! And I did it all because I wanted to believe in their values. I had my own dreams and  didn’t know why I was unpredictable or acting sad. I only knew that I wanted to change. And this little girl gave me the reflection of understanding again that I had a responsibility towards all the people that I left. It wouldn’t be fair to them if I did not do what I intended to do when I made the choice to abandon them. It was a sacrifice to begin again and it was only fair to discover fully what my new beginning was all about. Only a few people can get a second change in life and so I would better make the most of it. This desire to make the most out of it consumed and terrified me and pushed me to ascertain certain revelations that came suddenly and blew my old self away. To trust on your instinct to let go of all life and begin again. This was a fine example of death and rebirth; The world is changing and we change with it. There comes a time when you have to give up: there is a different wind now and you have no influence in its course. Change comes with a song and a tale and a painful lesson about humility and probably someone meeting his demise. But I believed I had a responsibility to leave sorrow behind and free myself from bad vibes. It was a belief in the fairytale of life. In the utmost density that love could wrap around my skin and make me fall in love with the sign of ocean like sceneries. I had a vague hope that life could be like this. And that hope grew stronger as I watched the little girl. How could this small girl exist? Why do I have the privilege to know her? All these questions were rippling on the surface of my mind. I was stupefied and suspended in awe and air. Before I could contemplate these questions though,  two men with bicycles arrived who asked us if we wanted to come with them to their sleeping place. I needed a moment to acclimatize that the world was bigger than us three and I felt disrupted from the start with the appearance of the boys. The two lady’s had met them earlier apparently.
The girls were quicker to respond to the new arrivals and agreed so I went along with them. During our walk across Christiania we stopped once by a beach. The water was shallow and riffled gently in the wind. Much to my fascination I saw the little girl stepping into the water and at once my questions were fading into a desire to go after her. I contemplated on it for a short time but could not resist the impulse that wanted to.  And the whole world stood still.

 My pants became wet and I walked barefoot after her and I was lost in the moment. I felt the little fish eating away at my feet, the wind through my hair, the stillness of the water around me and it was just a measure of the peace that rolled through the veins. The little girl who was lost in her stare. Lost from the world. A world on her own. A world with no horizon. Where the wind chased dreams and we just experimented with experiences. It made me happy beyond believe to feel the stillness of her. As if looking back was a fool’s errand. There was only that moment and in that moment of fish biting my toes there was a little girl who taught me what it meant to step into a world without time or expectations.



When we came back to the world again it was a short while until we got to the camping place. They had made a little community along the riverbed. A fire was made and as the evening came upon us I felt that the story of that day was ending. I was at a loss. I didn’t know what was expected of me or if I should go. The truth was that I did not want to of course. I wanted to spend time with my newfound stories. But as soon as we arrived they followed their own footsteps and I had lost track of the little girl. Emma went inside the tent of one of the boys and I even felt jealous because of it. The poems that I would give them were not done yet so I finished them while I was waiting for them to reappear. The fire crackled onwards as I discussed silently with myself what I should do. Doubt made me ponder. I waited until Emma reemerged from the tent and she came to me.
“Hey Cestmir, you already have a place to sleep? I have to say that you cannot stay here. The boys want you to go.”
A flare of anger rose inside. They want me to go!? How  could I be so stupid! Of course they want me to leave. I had nothing to give them and I was a fool by thinking otherwise. I had not the resilience then to protect my own. Steadfast I tumbled into their energy and overwhelmed myself with their opinions. It was clear how easily doubts justified themselves. Bravery I had not so I choose compliance. If I had bravery by my side that day I would have stormed off to the tents of these boys and tell them that to my face. But I wanted to belief in my own pity so I agreed and even forgot my own ability to fight back.
“Yes, of course I will go. I just have the poem that I wrote for you. And I wanted to ask ‘you mentioned a Swedish festival going on in one month?’ Do you want to go with me to that festival?”
This was a last hope. A straw, grasping to be
“I am going with the boy here.”
“Oh. Okay, yeah, that is fine.”
It was not really fine. I felt betrayed somehow. It was the first time that I experienced the impact my expectations could have on my mood. I thought that she liked me and I took this as a rejection. After I recited the poem I went on my way.
I left the fire place with a feeling of regret. Somehow It seemed as if my hope had been taken away from me. I felt sorry for myself. It was a weird feeling. My existence was laying expectations on people and if they were not reached my hope was affected and changed. I had no idea why because I should realize that anything she said was nothing more than the perception of her reality. Emma had her own life with other goals and I could not expect her to commit to my inner journey of peace or even that she comprehended what I wanted and react on it, so why should I feel affected by her words and decisions. It seems that we all grow up with a strong belief about everything around us. And the process of losing faith in these beliefs made us vulnerable to doubt. It was attraction that interacted with my heart and had power over me. I gave her this power by being attracted to her so it was my fault. Attraction was a dangerous game of crashing perceptions. Expectations came up that gave me doubts about my right to live. It went deep.

Apparently, the guys who invited us didn’t expect my arrival and they wanted me to leave and I made myself comply to their request. I had been confronted once again with my fear of attraction and I used this request as an escape goat to run away. My secret attraction towards Emma had prolonged my stay there and I should have known that I was not welcome. I should leave. I took all the blame for my preposterous outbreak of feelings. I was still a beginner in the attraction game of life. I wanted to feel pushed aside and I did.

I took the blame easily. never was good in standing up for myself. I rather just shrugged my shoulders if I felt bad and ignored the chance of defending. I was born with a slow mind. An infection that my mom got when she was giving birth to me killed some of my smaller brain cells which meant I needed some more time to talk and explain myself than, let’s say, my older brother who would always end my sentences for me. This made my heart find the time needed for expression in poetry rather than giving myself time in conversations. I was just a young man who forgot that he could take the time that he needed to express. And even if I had the balls to take my time to express, I knew than that an endless stream of stories would escape my lips and someone had to shut my mouth for me. I would rather wait until I knew for sure that I had something interesting to say. Emma had enough strength to decide her own fate. I did not think it was necessary to tell her about my heart. I did not want to contaminate the free will of the persons I met by influencing them. During my traveling about I began to learn that free will was not something given or taken away but it was difficult to accept that I was worthy of expressing myself.











The little girl observing my backpack:


Did you wander?” the little girl asked.
“Yes. I wandered.”
“Did you see the world?” the little girl asked.
“Yes. I saw the world.”
“And what did it say?”
“It told me that there was a little girl sitting inside of me.”
“Oh, did it speak about me?”
Yes. It spoke about you.”
“And what did it say about me?”
“it said that I have to remember you.”
“And how do you remember me?” the little girl asked.
“The world said that I have to write down stories, and through the stories I would find the little girl.”
“And have you found me.”
“Not yet little girl, not yet.”


I tried to forget about Emma or the little girl. Copenhagen was the city that surrounded me and there had to be other stories out there, waiting for me. I slept in numerous places around Christiania in the following days, walking and sitting on benches. Being free of protection or friends who wanted to give me tea gave me the possibility to feel how life felt all alone. I could focus on my primal needs and nothing else could distract me from myself. It was a never-ending experiment of loneliness and aloneness. The idea of happiness was fighting inside of me. I wanted to know if I could sit still and be happy. I wanted to know if life could accept someone who sat still most of the days. Mostly I was scared, but that was the whole experiment of going. To reach in the abyss of my thoughts and answer those questions that wanted to know what commitment meant and to who I wanted to be committed to. I loved to sit on benches and dwell on lingering thoughts. I found myself thinking and observing most of the time. My mind would deal with all the impulses that it never followed. Ideas came about the creative ways in which I could express myself and I fantasized about the consequences of imaginary actions. I let all ideas pass by until I found an instinct of balance that forced me to act. A balance where desire and expectation met an agreement. I took the time to digest time as it went by and interact swiftly by the time I felt ready to interact. It was hard to wait for an escape out of my mind but that was what I needed to do. I needed to think about the silence of everything in order to throw myself out again into the chaos of everything. I didn’t want to express anything just to fill the void of nothing.
It was fascinating to discover and explore the wideness and the range in which a mind could express itself. The fulfillment was lacking. The Happiness was still lacking, but I had hope that I could find gratitude one day for living. It was wonderful to be able to relax amidst all the fuss of human kind. I saw stories tumbling over each other and I could not join them with their celebration. They did a good job without me and I didn’t want to ruin their independency of me by making them aware of my existence. I think I was scared to become an individual.
As I was sitting on a bench one day I saw a lovely attractive girl looking at me. She turned away when I was looking. Somehow I decided that it was a good day to begin exercising my impulses.  I decided to be bold and make her a poem. It turned out to be a love poem and I scared myself. My boldness had exposed my feelings a little too much and I could feel that she felt awkward. I didn’t know how to ease myself into comfortable situations. Desire weaved its way onto the paper and I loved to just give all of me in the first moment. That is what I loved about the stage. I had been entertaining people since I was ten. I loved going on stage and being seen because it gave me the ability to express who I was but all the emotions I had inside of me were not confident enough to explain the expression. If people would have questions about the performance I would stutter and be uncomfortable. I would say things that made no sense. I was scared of commitment. So I rather left as soon as I made my poem and wished them a good day. Poetry was a way to maneuver words around and confuse myself. I liked to be confused. It gave me the opportunity to run away from clarity. So I excused myself quickly and went my own way again. I didn’t want to confront myself with situations where I felt awkward. But this life was still a discovery of stories so I had to keep trying and there was another chance a few days later. A girl with a guitar on her back was seen walking in the center of town. I tried to talk her.
 She didn’t see me following her footsteps at first. She walked slowly and seemed lost. I trailed her from behind and tried to keep my distance. For a couple of seconds I walked a couple of meters beside her when she suddenly turned around and looked at me. I was caught! Instantly I stood still, trying to blend in with my surroundings.
My efforts to hide were in vein as I saw how she walked towards me. I smiled as she came closer. She moved with freedom and a familiar stride of reassurance.
“Hello, I am Michaela and I want to have a nice time here in Copenhagen. Do you know a good place?”
Her voice spoke of friendship and I liked it.
It seemed that life had granted me a gift to interact. This girl carried some magic with her and I was intrigued and honored by her arrival.
“Nice to meet you Michaela, I am Cestmir and I know a perfect spot! Let’s go there now.”
She accepted with gratitude and surprise.
“I have a few hours of exploring that I can do and then I will take the train back to Sweden. But I always wanted to see Copenhagen.”
She was a lovely girl. Very friendly and open.
I decided to stay with her until she went back to Sweden and she didn’t mind.
Whenever I met someone I would have huge expectations about the development of our bond. I was constantly thinking about the possible futures that could happen and develop over time. Afraid of the unknown.
"Throughout the day we shared chatter and laughter and I realized that it was not so difficult to meet a girl on the streets. It just took some time to open up and be comfortable about the attention I was getting. As the hours went by we found ourselves back in the city center and I had an idea.
“What if we performed together on the streets?”
She thought about it for a second but agreed.
We picked a spot and as she played, I tried to recite some of my poetry. Everything was a haze of adventure and it was bold and brave.
 Afterwards she had to go to her home in Sweden.
“If you ever find yourself in Sweden, come and look for me”
She gave me her address and off she went.

Attraction was fascinating to me.

The next day I decided that I wanted to meet the singer songwriter friend of Koen Brouwer. Koen was a friend of mine back in the Netherlands. We used to write poems together and he gave me an album of his band. He wanted me to deliver it to a singer songwriter he met in Copenhagen. Of course I delivered it. It turned out that the friend was a family man. A great man with stories full of magic. When he sang I could feel his emotions swiveling about and through me. I got goose bumps. He was a street artist for 28 years and in the last year he made a song about two other street artists who were in love but could not be together. This was the first song he wrote in five years. The song was called ‘Never play with hearts.’ The memory of his voice reminds me still of my younger self who listened to it for the first time and felt amazed. He invited me to eat as many sandwiches as I wanted. When I stopped he asked me: “Do you really want to stop?”
“No.”
He gave me the sandwiches back and I followed his instructions to eat what I truly wanted.  When the sandwiches were all in my belly we began to go to the streets of Copenhagen and I was guided into a world of street performers who stood on the streets daily to express their art. It was beautiful to see that they all had their own intricate ways of showing emotion and vulnerability. A heart had so many ways to make itself known. The world was one big discovery of never ending surprises. Street performers were gathered around the fountain in the center of Copenhagen and they all were unique in their attributes and capabilities but all seemingly tied together in a play of humanity. Their music explored by their own understanding of themselves and who they wanted to be. And I watched as they performed, one by one, as the people in the city passed them by, as some of them stood still and listened. It was beautiful to see how these street performers had made their own stage and were placing their gift in the hands of freedom. People could stop and listen or they could ignore them and pretend they never existed. It was a trail of bravery. It took guts to show your heart and let yourself be judged by all these people. The property of human dignity that all men had was not seen so often. It took time to stand still and actually see past the expectations of your own heart. People got carried away easily by their own greed. Humankind always competed against each other and did their best to stand out but dignity could always be found beneath the layers of self-protection. When I stood amidst the street performers I felt this greed to rush over and let my excitement blow everyone away. That was so natural for a young kid to have. I walked into a world where fascination triggered me. Performing on the street was a normal thing to do for them but I felt like a fresh wind, still in need of understanding that it took a controlled version of excitement to touch people. To lay your passion into a gentle river of peace. I did not want to think about peace. Surely I wanted to learn how to control the facets of freedom that I was given but first I had to let loose and dive in expressing. If I did not learn how to express my forceful confronting soul that was dying for attention, how could I ever expect that I could attain the opposite? There was a mic and together with a man who played the djembe I performed my poems on the streets for the first time. I used the change to experiment to the fullest. This new experience was a world of limitless fields and in those fields I played. I was all about sharing my happiness. There was no border. I shared my energy, my expression, my words with nothing holding me back. People got scared and ignored me. I was an exploding ball of passion and I was everywhere. It was definitely something I wanted to do more often. The beauty of experimenting and showing yourself in all your colors is the ability to reflect on it. We have the means to confront ourselves with our desires. It was amazing to feel able to say and do what you really wanted to. Without confrontation there was no growth possible. It took me a time to realize that there was nothing more beautiful that I could do than expressing my heart even if it was terrible at self-control or respecting boundaries. I just had to trust that I did not do it because I was a bad person but because nobody showed me the ropes of existence. It was quite early in my life that I came to know that nobody really knew what or who I was. It was obvious that my family could not help me to become happier with myself or answer the many questions I had about my own heart. When I figured out that nobody knew who I really was and therefore nobody could really help me or give me the expectations that I wanted them to give me, I started to help myself. When I was ten I came up to a girl I loved and improvised a story for her. In high school I started to dance in the cantina after I was bullied. It was surprisingly easy to entertain people and I felt that I inspired myself in the process. People had a tendency to pick up on the waves of bravery. Beauty never got old. It only changed form. The street performers in Copenhagen really inspired me and a tear escaped my eye when I heard Koen’s friend sing his song. ‘Never play with Hearts.’ I wanted to seek the existence of love in the depths of me and I gladly took the liberty to change my destiny. I did not want to get stuck at a certain age and fall into a systematic pattern of limitations. No! I wanted to evaluate all the options constantly and bring about change when all hope seemed lost. I had still some fire inside of me that wanted to find a place where it could express without hurting anyone. There were some couple incidents in the past where I had been berated for the fire that expressed without thinking and I took it very personal so I didn’t do it anymore. But it was actually weird to stop doing something you love because it seemed to hurt certain people. It was far more interesting to gather the people around me who would not find it hurtful and who could handle the fire that wanted to seize and sizzle with the flick of a hand. We were seemingly tied to desires and destined to find the places where these desires came true. So if I were you, I would watch carefully which desires you choose.

It led me to Michael. Michael was a man who got introduced by me via the street performer scene and he was the one recording my extravagant first performance on the streets. He was an audience member who liked to see all the rich vibrant voices and instruments joining forces.
“Cestmir, you should calm down.”
And so it began.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are scaring people away. How can you inspire them if you scare them away? If I were you I would learn how to interact with peace before I throw myself of the cliff of expression.”
“oh, Really?”
“Yes.”
I could count on Michael to confront me with my own insecurities. Therefore I liked him very much.
“You should do Poetry slams.  That is a good way to learn how you could express with peace.”
I almost wanted to tell him that I did a lot of Poetry slams in the Netherlands but I did not want to berate his kindness.
“oh yes, I was looking for those!”
“You ever did some poetry slams in your country?”
“Yes! I even competed in a competition with one of my stories and won the third price of all the Netherlands.”
“That’s good.”
He didn’t seem too surprised to hear that news. How fun it is indeed to have a conversation with people! You never knew how a person would react and this scared me to celebrate life. You could give the same piece of information to several people and they could all give you a different response. How did that work? The uniquely gifted attributes bestowed upon us by nature were all the same but somehow they adapted to the circumstances and created different personalities. It was fascinating to receive multiple perceptions and contemplate on the origin of these differences. The beauty of interaction is the ability to transcend these differences and find the peak in which we understand once again that we are equal in our range to feel. Most people just don’t give others the opportunity to be aware of that. Maybe the way in which we expressed could agitate us or it could form an awkward silence but we all had the same capacity to explore and teach each other how to fulfill our hearts. I loved the idea of sharing feelings. To listen to what the other had to say and forgive each other for the words you exchanged. Whatever you mentioned or said, it was never going to be the exact verbal representation of who you are. Sometimes I wonder if discovery is all what we have. It is a constant struggle to remind ourselves that there is always more to learn. For me anyway. I always think that I am the wisest that I will ever be. I also think that I am the fool all the time. It is so abstract and weird to know that so many personalities live inside of us with so many different feelings and angles in which their thoughts affect our behavior. Can we ever express our pure behavior to someone? To let them see who we are? I don’t think so. We can only give them our personalities and it is up to them to decide if they want to engage and investigate how they could stick with us. Gratefully listen to the emotions that rise and fall and decide what to do with them. Falling in love with someone is an act of surrender. The question is, What kind of love do you want to create? I would rather create happiness and fulfillment than that I would scare people but that was what I did according to Michael. I don’t think he was trying to take away my happiness and fulfillment, he was just trying to point out a possible consequence that love could bring. And I was happy to agree.


When love comes like storm, when love comes like caress, be strong and smooth. Cautious like the snake, innocent like the dove. Be the bee that stings and the fly that flies.


“Cestmir, I like you. I have looked on the internet and have found three poetry slams that are going to happen in one week here in Copenhagen. Let’s go to all three and see how you do.”
“Okay. Let’s do that.”
Michael went away in the evening after we spend the day together and when he left I felt alone. The day had been full of people that I had admired and listened to and  the strange feeling of being alone confessed it’s emptiness to me. It had felt like a family left me. As a child I always had brothers around and parents who influenced me and made me feel part of a family. This was a feeling that I began to resent, that’s why I left. I wanted to be alone but I had still a lingering desire to be part of something. I was struggling to grasp what I wanted. As I stepped into a new world where I relinquished the title of brother, son or nephew I felt better but I did not escape the feeling of resentment. I blamed myself for seeking family while I was at the same time blaming myself for being alone. I adopted loneliness as my safe heaven to crawl back into while I was not sure about what I wanted or why. Resentment followed me around and did not let go of me. Borders of limitations were trying to break at my command but it would not budge as long as I did not really know why I did not want to be a part of a community. My desire to break the chains of connection brought me the opportunities to answer these questions.
The poetry slams were all in the same week and they were all a week away.
I Slept in Christiania every day since I got in Copenhagen and now it was time to move again. I did not want to wait until the poetry slams were over. I had spent one month in Copenhagen and I needed to break away from the city. That was the first feeling I got when I woke up. that I needed to get out of Copenhagen. Fortunately I had the address of Michaela still and so my path was chosen. But first I was about to meet Tess.

I was writing poems on the streets when I met Tess. Tess was the second in line most beautiful girl who I ever saw. Tess was a daughter of Samantha, and Samantha was one of the best friends of my Mother back In the day. Tess and I played together when we were little kids and Samantha said that we were both really quit and played together all the time. Tess met me when I was just finishing the poem for some people. I recited it and everyone loved what I wrote. Secretly I found it delicious that Tess met me while I was making this poem. Seeing Tess as a grown woman made me realize that the bond we had as children was still there. a spark of memories who just needed to be awoken. It took me only a second to fall in love with her. Tess was a star sign person who was really into the energy that the stars and planets gave us. I made her a poem and she said that it explained exactly who she was. Her family lived in Barcelona but came from Denmark. She had three younger siblings who lived with her mother and their father in Barcelona. His name was Mads. Tess had another father. Family weaved into each other as stories that held the keys to freedom. Mads and Samantha had lived in the Netherlands in the past and we were molded into one family back then. For me, Samantha had always stayed a second mother to me and the children were brothers and sisters who I loved immensely.

Together with Cristina they shared a history. Long lost friends as you may call them. Back in those days it seemed that freedom was just everywhere. I had this great sense of wildness and comfort that I carried in my bones from that time. I wanted to meet and visit all of these friends to see if my bones were mistaken or if they told of some dynasty of love that did not carry its teachings into the change of time. Back when I was a child there were huge celebrations of friendship and freedom in my backyard. Or this is how I fantasized it. All of these long lost friends scattered across the lands when time passed and I was curious if the puzzle that they had created could be fixed again.  My greatest wish was to redesign my childhood and what better way was there but to visit the past. so I followed footsteps my parents left behind and learned a little bit more about them along the way.
Tess was a mind-blowingly good looking female, but I could not say that to her because I was foolish. She explained that she was really getting annoyed, by all the men who saw her only as pretty and did not look further. Tess was a woman who had such a good heart that I wanted to dance with her and be there for her(not because she was spring captured in a rainbow.)
As I saw her walking towards me for the first time I felt like there was a long lost sister of mine walking towards me. The grace and the memories that she embodied were endless. As she walked towards me I felt destiny opening up and a puzzle piece of history gave itself freely to the foolish boy who dreamed of miracles. We decided that we had to see each other again.
The poem I gave her was really accurate so she wondered how I could write it all down.
“ I don’t know. Somehow I feel the words and they create a pattern.”
“Well, it is very special Cestmir. I never met anyone who could write my essence down and do it so effortlessly.”

Tess dropped me off at the train into Sweden and I hoped everything was going to be all right. I used the train because I needed to be back in time for the Poetry slams. it was late and when I got off the first train in Malmo I did not see the bus that was planning on taking me further. I followed a group of strangers for a while and saw a forest where I laid down.







Tess:
 

Angels eyes silenced.

Whisps of smoke gathered
That was the history of a girl who lived willingly

Songbirds hears the stories she speaks softly

As if dreams of childlike wishes consume the time with their kisses
And if we might follow these obscure streets of wonder,
than timeless halls of paradise could meet us in the world where love resided

And her song, whisped in the wind
around the corners we sing.
opening the eyes of angels

---

We meet and meet again
discover new greetings to find a renewal of art in the life that we give ourselves

I am a pilgrim
meeting the silence that god gives me
to trust the love that we give and the life that we life

we meet and meet again
on the road that leads nowhere
it is already there where we thought it was supposed to be