Exploring Languages in Urban Spaces
Copenhagen Residency-720.jpg


the city of my imagination

Next to the bridge

Walking towards the bridge, I see my reflection in a window. Of course, I look at it. Don't we all? (Don't you?) In the age of the selfie, one might also stop to capture one's possibly narcissistic self. Well, I stopped for the words in the window. Questions of narcissism notwithstanding, I am looking for languages other than Danish across Copenhagen.

Next to the bridge. Copenhagen. Photo by (and with) Canan Marasligil

Reading —Family isn't always blood— They mean friendship, and I have many friends. But I also have conflicted relations with my(blood)self, and with my family. —In a world where you can be anything— can I be anything, really? Anything else than myself? It's me in that reflection.

I must surround myself with people who will love me no matter what. I have my family for that —et tırnaktan ayrılmaz, you-can-not-separate-the-nail-from-the-flesh, literally, and we actually could, it would hurt like hell, but it is a possibility. "Blood is thicker than water" is the English equivalent, "blod er tykkere end vand" in Danish (that's what Google tells me, it also tells me there's a rap song with that title)— I get the blood part, but water? Do friendships tend to evaporate like water? The fleshy Turkish proverb is closer to the reality of these relationships, it seems to me. Flesh, blood, nails. Am I the nail or the flesh then? Does water and blood mix? Doesn't matter, love is supposed to bind it all.  

Reading —Happiness is not a destination— all caps. Seriously, —it is a way of life— all caps again. But doesn't a way lead to a destination? My typographic sensitivities do tend to make the link between the red "way" and "destination". Also, all caps. 

I am more confused than ever.

Next to the bridge. Copenhagen. Photo by Canan Marasligil

Reading —I have no idea what's going on— be bold and smile and shout it out. I smile all the time. Should I be worried?

I'm starting to get anxious about spending too much time in front of these windows. There's a bridge a few steps away. I could still ring the door of this psychotherapists' practice, but then, I think, in which language will I express myself? It's time to go, time to cross that bridge.