A great use of furniture

  We have a large fireplace in our house, one very pleasant during autumn and early spring, but still a stark necessity during winter. There is no way we can afford to buy wood, so we burn furniture. Not our own, mind you, at least not if we don’t have to. We find it in all kinds of places, both at traditional garbage disposal points and in more untraditional places around town. The streets of Copenhagen, like in most modern cities are strangely abandoned during nighttime, so we can pretty much do what we want as long as we don’t do any obvious breaking and entering. We obtain furniture and we do it for free. It is great exercise, and the rewards are great, in the form of a beyond pleasant heated combined living room and bedroom. We mostly use more distant parts of the house as storage facilities and fridge during winter.

  It works!

Gestapo is alive and well, and living in Denmark

At the protests during the Copenhagen Climate Change meeting in December one policeman was particularly brutal to me. He kicked me to the ground, stepped on my arm, kicked me in the ribs so I couldn’t breathe or move, bent down, grabbed my arm and pulled it so hard that it broke. Then he striped me and dragged me off to The Cage with a lot of other, unfortunate victims that he and his colleagues decided to make a project of.

I was kept in The Cage with a lot of others during most of the day, while the pain in my arm just got worse and worse.

It was a particularly bad fracture the doctor told me. He found splinters in it, and he feared for long term damage, and he told me flat out he had never seen anything like it, and he had been with the Red Cross. What should just take a couple of weeks to heal took six, and I wasn’t certain I wasn’t permanently damaged until my last visit to the doctor earlier this week.

I filed charges against the policeman, of course, but I have done so before without any result, except for the fact that the harassment has turned worse. This time they have stayed away, though, probably because of all the general media coverage during the protests. We expect that the stalking will pick up again soon. It always does.

No journalists have covered my story, of course. I’m used to that, too. The established media is the tyranny’s lapdogs, an obvious fact everybody should realize.

It has taken me some time to digest this. I’m writing it down in a feverish rush, without thinking too much about it. I’m fine, though, even if the above described event is slightly worse than even I and my friends and tribe members are used to. It makes me more dedicated to fight on, not less.

We walk through the streets

We walk through the streets as if we own them and we do. Not in the stupid sense that we have any legal claim on them, but because we’re dominating them. People stare at us with their lowered eyes, in their fear and shame, while we, holding our heads high, declare our pride to the world. Hundreds of us have been imprisoned and beaten by the police, by the tyrants’ bullies, and we’re still here.

We’re actually more here, now, than we used to be, than we’ve ever been. It’s remarkable, but not strange how liberating it is to stand up for ourselves, and to rise against oppression. They did their best to break us, but achieved the exact opposite result. Right now we’re not doing anything, anything overt to provoke them, except by our very presence. Justified pride has no place in today’s world. No true human emotion or humanity has.

A house is gone, but what it represents won’t go away. We carry it with us, forever. The authorities achieved nothing by brutally assaulting us, except alienating a bunch of young people. The older among us have found a lot of new friends on the radical venues throughout the city lately.

We sit there, in the smoke, in the mist, exchanging looks, men and women thrown together by coincidences and Fate. What doesn’t kill us or turn us into zombies, make us stronger. We feel it, in every single spot on our body and in our mind. They beat us up and believed they beat us, but we survived, not only with our mind and independence intact, but enhanced, with the fire inside having grown even stronger than before. We have grown and become more than we were. Thank you, Denmark. Thank you, Copenhagen.

We walk through the streets and we see fear in the police officers empty eyes.