I feel like “the Underground Man” in Dostoevsky’s “Notes from underground”.

I live in the basement. Strange that I have grown so tall when I all my Life have been able to touch the ceiling, the house has been telling me to get down and I have kept growing up. Now the house won, I have to bow every time I enter my own my room, there is no more space for me here anymore.

What I like the most about living in a basement is the closeness to the ground. Today I saw something fantastic, just before sunset I saw one of the most romantic “sexual” intercourses I have ever experienced. This could be due to the fact that I am drinking my favourite grape juice, Faustino I (Yes, not number V – there is a huge difference), a bottle of my dear friend Faustino I (soft, silky and mellow) can make even two hippopotamus having sex looks romantic.

Anyway, so I was sitting there with “The Bird”, Mr. Charlie Parker, playing his saxophone and looking out of my window in my own little room in my basement and suddenly I saw it.

First a little ladybird started to climb up the side of my window, incredible how fast this little creature is, it was actually the first ladybird I have seen in 2007, so it was quite a big day. Then suddenly another ladybird came flying to my window and they both saw each other. I was wishing that I didn’t destroy “the moment” by being a “pervert” looking by the side, apparently I didn’t because suddenly they started to make Love.

“The Bird” playing in my ears and Ladybirds playing outside my window – for a moment I started to believe in Romance.

It is strange to see these things these days, I feel that my mind is like a Jackson Pollack painting, even though I want it to be like a Piet Mondrian – square and simple, with beautiful simple colours.

I have drinks for every occasion, when talking about art I prefer white win, BUT only if I am outside and the sun is shining, if I shall really enjoy a good piece of art sitting with a book in my room then a Royal Salute, 21 years Old Scotch Whisky perfect, especially when one can taste the richness and complexity of this “water of Life” (as it mean). After 21 years in oak casks this drink deserves to be drunk with good art. Henri Matisse if it is doing the day, Picasso in the evenings and Van Gogh before I go to sleep.

Do you remember the 1990s? I do very clearly, even though it is 8 years ago, this was the decade where I grew up. My first memory is Denmark wining the European Championship in soccer, beating Germany 2-0 in the final. I remember how Denmark voted no to the “Mastricht contract”, how the war in Croatia and Bosnia ended with the “Dayton agreement” and how the US decided to bomb without asking for permission, I remember Tamagutchi (but I cant spell it), third grade when I planted a whole forest. I remember how “the Man” should stop being a rough, dirty, strong guy and suddenly he should be a metrosexual, how “second-hand” became first, the first part in this period were the Buffalo shoes and the dreadlocks with colours.

I remember Tyson biting Holyfiends ear off, Jeltsin being a great statesman and being the first drunk person I saw.
I remember when I drove in the train alone for the first time, passing by a station called “Friheden” (The Freedom) and realizing that travelling could take me to places I have never been before, I remember seeing my brother playing Wolfenstein and thinking that computers have reached the limit of performance, just later to realize that I was wrong when I played SimCity.

Funny enough I don’t remember Nelson Mandela getting released or Václav Havel wining the elections.

In 1993 Jurassic Park came out and I loved Hollywood, in 1995 was amazon.com launched and I loved it. In 1998 “google” was created on Stanford University (and this was three years before the first Ipod came out).

I don’t remember that the Guggenheim museum in Bilbao was built, but I remember seeing the first B-2 Spirit Stealth Bomber.

I was really a part of the 1990s in 1994 when I bought the “Parklife” album and few months later when I bought everything I could get with Suede, Pulp and some of the Oasis.

I don’t really miss the 1990s, only that it was a lot more peaceful and I felt it was a decade of “discovery”, at least for me.

In 2007 I am sitting alone in my summerhouse, drinking beer and whisky (remember, beer on whisky, might risky; whisky on beer, all is clear). I cook a nice dinner, just for me, trying to catch up with all the books I have bought. I have my sweetest love by my side, a Canon 350D.

I know that they will come; it is just a matter of time. They come here every single day, the deer’s, the rabbit, the birds, and the proud pheasant. My summerhouse is basically “half windows” so I almost feel that nature is inside the house and the house inside nature. The animals don’t get scared of me and my camera, now they are in the zoo looking at me behind the windows.

When I was a little boy, all the boys always went out playing football or basket in the schoolyard. The girls would sit on the benches doing nothing; or actually they would talk about Life, feelings and the world. Hence the boys stayed on the same level, playing games against each other while the girls developed their thoughts and ideas.

Nevertheless, I am tired of people talking about women rights. Tell me when in history the man took care of the kids, cleaned the house, cooked the food (of course all in cooperation with the woman), but when did you see in history a adult man feeding a baby and petting him softly? The man has never in history been there for the woman as “we” are there now….. the women are just smarter than us, because they didn’t play football.

A door went up

And no one came in

A room stayed

As empty as my soul

And the heart continued

As desert like as earlier

And no one came into

The door of my heart

I am going to Cuba in 3 days. I am going to study in London in 6 months. I am going to end this piece now.

This should be read with the last photos I have uploaded on Facebook in mind.