It was today. Two years ago in such day I arrived in Denmark in 2001. Not much to say actually. The only thing I can do is to repeat the Danish poet, Benny Andersen's words in a poem called Rural Station:

One March day you are sitting
numb in a cold train.
With a hyperdermic needle
you are shot into the heart of Jutland
[...]
You turn back, dizzy
lose your way in this strange land.
Forget path and errand.
Notice only how the thick earth of Jutland
clutches your shiny shoes.

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