Keeping The Right Things In The Right Boxes

Only some hours left of this year. I am not ceremonious about it because I don't believe in numbers. They're invented by humans and I seem to rely more on the innocence of nature than human beings. Still there is this inner hope that next year will bring me more of everything. 

I will help luck and coincidence on their way and move to the second largest city in Denmark by the end of this week, which leaves my forest house both a mess and a stripped one. Depending on which of the 13 rooms you are entering. All those boxes of nothingness that have followed me and my ex-boyfriend the last years every time we moved. This time I put my foot down. And it seems like I have a personal relationship with the boxes that is left. Looking forward to opening every one of them. This is the way it should be. In all aspects of life. It is what my next year is going to be all about. 

Rebecca

The Spiral

Music has left me. 

Left is silence. 

Is winter.

Is sleep.

Darkness.

Ghosts. 

And me. 

Rebecca

The Tale of The Desperate Girl Part II

Inside the parenthesis desperation was growing fast. It almost filled out the whole space along the curves and wasn't thinking of stopping until the frames were crushed. 

But the girl didn't realise this because she were busy celebrating the newfound freedom and independence being single for the first time in 10 years. Or... ever. She embraced every little thing on her way - and welcomed the naïve thoughts as old friends. She didn't realise how naturally her subconsciousness was working on finding her a new boyfriend. 

The first guy she spotted was  actually the first to spot. A horse smith a bit younger than her. Not very charming or intelligent, but he was a guy. She thought about seducing him and always dressed a bit nicer when she new he was coming to the stable. To her it was a game. Just fun. But deep down it was very serious. 

After a couple of weeks she traveled alone to Valencia. She'd found a place to stay through a hospitality society on the internet and of course her host was an attractive guy. She told people that she was going there to have fun. And she did. They were totally clear from the beginning - that none of them were interested in relationships - and it was all about sex and having a good, interesting time. 

Maybe her subconsciousness played a trick on her. Making her believe that fun was what she wanted. Just waiting for the last night to get back to business. 

And there she was. Ready to stay, to love, to commit. 

This was the first time she got suspicious. From that night she had herself under close observation.

She saw herself dreaming about the Valencia guy for a while after coming home. Really missing him. And she wondered if he was at all a person she would like to get into a relationship with. Even if the answer was no her feelings didn't care. They desperately needed an object. A place to stay and someone to cling to. It was either that or facing loneliness. 

After just a short time another test came along. It was much more persistent and yet abstract. A stranger contacted her via the internet. He started gently but became more and more present in her daily life. It both scared and captivated her. How could a person she had only been writing with become such an object of attention? Was this the way imaginary friends from childhood began to appear? Because she needed one for some reason? 

She tried to wake up. Staring at herself. Almost feeling ridiculous because staring was the only thing she could do. Her feelings were on the move.  She tried to scare him away. Then he told her he wanted to meet her. She asked why. To have kids with you - he answered. You are mad - she answered but continued writing. After some days he had told her all about his plans with her. And she wanted to meet him too. Asking herself why but no answer came along.  

She didn't even want a boyfriend. She needed herself. To get to know and tell her own story. But she didn't seem to agree from the bottom of her heart. It was way too frightening. 

Actually she was fighting hard. Sensing how much she would gain from staying single for some time kept her getting back on her feet every time a guy knocked her down.

 

In the middle of all this she started suspecting men. Thought that they were able to see through her and take advantage of her being lovesick. She was a target of intelligent men who wanted something from her that she was most likely not to offer - had she been sane. Even though she wasn't sure about what exactly they wanted, she refused. 

Her ability to judge right from wrong was under severe suspicion. She noticed how skilled men were to say and  do the right things with good timing and how women around her fell for their tricks. It was a game and have a laugh, she calmed herself. Somewhere it was fair enough, but she wanted the real thing to exist, too. 

The rational thoughts came only when she wasn't under a spell herself. They were the opponent in all of the fights. 

And she wondered how long this was going to last.

Yes she wondered a lot about that. 

 

Rebecca   

Silly Days Like This

Feeling awful.

My own words don't work no more. Seems like everybody knows how to say things better than I do. 

As if they are more present and aware than I am. 

Just more than me.  

Am going to sleep it away. 

At least somebody has missed me. 

He's lying on my thighs. Looking at me with a face saying;

Can't we just stay like this forever? 

And then the calm purring. 

I am afraid that my picture of the world is too bright. 

That I will get disappointed. 

I am afraid of having too much hope.

Being too self confident in the wrong aspects. 

The thing that makes me feel awful is this:

When I realise how fragile my happiness is. 

Just a thin, thin line. 

When I stay away from interacting with people I will keep my balance. 

Although it also takes away the challenge.

Life is full of choices. 

And silly days like this.

I'm sorry for being such a baby. 

But I am. 

Rebecca  

The Tale of the Desperate Girl Part I

She was a girl. In this way she was a target already. But she was also naïve like hell. And attractive. 

All this she knew. 

To her - being naïve ment trusting people - seing the positive in every situation and every person on her way. She also trusted herself to an extend that left her with ease and delight. Knowing that she would make the best of every day if she wasn't disturbed by others. 

But she was. Very disturbed indeed. By boyfriends. Her first one was a good guy. He had charm and down-to-earth-mentality but she got bored because he had no impressive intellect. They watched movies and had sex mostly. For almost 2 years. It was a good beginning for a 17-year old. 

But after starting getting bored she began looking for other interesting objects. When not watching movies in bed with the good guy, she began spending time with a smaller boy. He was only about her height and weighed the same as her, had she not had female boobs and buttocks. Actually a little less. His self confidence was small. His "thing" was smaller. But she found him fascinating because he enjoyed using his brain. He understood her imagination better and they had weird talks and were dreaming about discovering the world. 

The day she broke up with her first boyfriend, the next one was waiting for her at his home. They were 19. 

After seing parts of the world together she found out how small his self confidence was. All his jealousy and controlling. In the next two years she learned how to lie to a person she loved to be able to breathe a little. Secretly she danced with guys, she flirted at parties and had interesting conversations. She even thought about other guys. To him she was a saint, the girl of his dreams and he never knew about her other life. And this was for the best, she concluded. 

His controlling started to tighten. All the time she had to resist from sharing parts of her life with him and it affected her personality. She used to do crazy stuff and never worry about it. Her smile faded a bit. 

Until she met a man. He was older than her. Far more intelligent than anybody she had met or heard about, experienced, seductive and powerful in any way. And then he was an artist. 

She was now 21 years old and knew that it would be a good time not to get involved with a new guy. Just break up with the poor fellow and live by herself for a while. Of course she only did the first part. And the artist was waiting for her in the music studio. 

He showed her a new world. Opened the door to self expression and cherishing her weird imagination so that she had no choice but to surrender to the music. She was so captivated by this man that she didn't realise what he was doing to her. His judging character made her bent over and shape in all the directions he wanted her to be with the best intentions. When she started to think about killing herself she experienced it as becoming a  deeper person. Realising the meaningless of life. The loneliness. The big issues felt good inside her even though her smile was retreating to nearly nothing. She was herself becoming an artist, while friends were leaving her. 

She had never trusted anybody like she trusted him. And they stayed together for 6 years. Asking him about everything she was insecure about, which was practically everything, because it was such a big world and he knew how to deal with it. 

But there were so many rules. How to behave and how to react. Of course it was all some of the best ways to do things and if she had mastered the task she would have become a perfect person. To him at least and to other perfectionists. The problem was, that she was anything but a that. Her real nature was messy, distraite and unstructured. After 4 or 5 years she started thinking about being without a boyfriend for the first time in her adult life. She needed it. So they discussed it for about two years until he left the country and her. 

This was when she realised how much she had missed herself. And how crying of happiness felt. How dancing her way through cooking dinner felt. How screaming hello on her bicycle to airplanes felt. And also how being alone felt.

Alone with desperation in parenthesis. 

...

Rebecca    

Skipping Sleep

Will I be a dancer if I get a boyfriend?

Will I feel like making sand drawings with the right soundtrack?

Will I have the same appetite for strangers?

For travelling?

Will I smile and make jokes about myself when nobody is around?

Will I prioritize writing above washing the dishes? 

Even on the fourth day?

Will I feel as if I'm inventing my own life?

And take credit for that?

Will I feel this free? 

This childish?

This curious?

And this attractive?

Sexy? 

And sensual?

Will I do what I want to do whenever the time is right and will the time ever be right then?

He got me thinking. 

I almost made a contract with myself some weeks ago. That I didn't want to be in a relationship for a while. 

I should have done it. 

Then these thoughts wouldn't haunt me.

I could still make the contract. 

But he got me thinking. 

Am I desperately in a subconscious level attracting wonderful guys towards me? Guys that are boyfriend subjects? Am I this afraid of being alone even though I don't feel it? 

Or is it the habit of being in a relationship that just leads me into this situation?

Can you believe it? 

I feel difficult today. I want to fight! Throw myself on the floor and bring someone down there with me. Tear the clothes, mount the person and shout directly in the face. No words. Pure frustration.

It's a fucking game. 

Yeah!

Who wants to fight!?  

Rebecca

The Dancer

I should have been a dancer. 

Rythm. Heart. Powerful expression. Moving. Feeling. 

So maybe I will. 

Rebecca

Not a Stranger To Me

Don't we all wish to be swept off our feet?

I seem to get involved with guys who master the art of sweeping. 

A well-done one takes guts, grace and intelligence among other things. It's complicated. 

Nevertheless a stranger did that to me last night. We've never met. We still haven't. 

But oh... he did well. 

It made me contact my boss this morning after just a few hours of sleep to say that I would stay home today. I needed to get some more sleep, but as soon as I'd put down the phone, his words surrounded me again.

I usually don't lie to people. But how to tell my boss that I couldn't go to work because I was afraid of loosing the special feeling? That I needed to break the routines because I've been up all night talking to this guy? 

I wish I were that brave. But I'm afraid that I wouldn't get what I wanted. So I told her I had a stomach ache. 

I am an autumn leaf today. 

Luckily no wind blew on me yet. 

I think I would crush.

It's crazy. Surreal. Mad.

My ex-boyfriend would have one thing to say to this:

- You girls are so easy!

And I would give him one answer:

- We are. Because who wants to cling to a stubbornness that will leave you alone in the corner, while all the easy girls are having the time of their lives with feelings turned inside out?

And he would smile because he does that sometimes. 

The stranger and I talked about the illusion of love. 

And we were the perfect example. 

Not that there is anything called love between us. 

But... I find this interesting:

We've never met. And still he's on my mind most of the time today. I don't know how he moves. How his voice sounds like. I only know the words he gave me. But I already have a picture of a whole person in my mind. And I feel as if I miss him.  

Doesn't it make one wonder were feelings come from?

He says it comes from our imagination. That love isn't real. Nor is he to me. Or I to him. We make each other up. 

Or at least that's how I interpret it.

Maybe it doesn't sound as weird as it feels like.

But if this is true I find it more important than ever to have a good imagination.  

Tare down the public, analytic schools! Teach the children how to sense and fantasize instead!

Maybe that doesn't create a wealthy society, but it makes the world go round in a more fascinating way.

I'm off! Don't wanna be late for the next ride! 

Rebecca

 

 

 

The Forbidden Fruits I Like

He was right behind me. Sliding down the last steps on the stairs. It was dark, but I guess he could still see me. Maybe he just kept the image in front of him. I felt him. His passion was so massive it was impossible not to, even though my sister couldn't see. It is the blindness that comes from trust.  

He was dating her. They were high school sweet hearts and had finally met up again. And this was her party, us celebrating her. I don't think he remembered at all. 

I felt very innocent, but I was flattered. At the bottom of the stairs he touched the naked part of my back between my shoulders. I think I became wet instantly. He said everything not using a single word. Seduced me on the spot. 

He was good-looking, but it didn't matter as long as he made me feel like I did. 

Then came the shame. The not wanting to hurt my sister. Even my thoughts were illegal. Walked on again. Leaving a space between us in the kitchen. Soon after he filled it up again. In the living room in front of my sister and her friends, who still didn't know.

I sat on a backless soft chair. All the time he was behind, completely absorbed in me with a dignity that still made it work. Until some words suddenly slipped from him. Couldn't remember which, it didn't matter. 

And everybody knew. 

I felt like a criminal.

But today I could still feel his admiration as if it actually happened. 

It is beautiful how dreams seem to fulfill your needs when they are most welcome. 

Rebecca        

 

Them and Me

A  dehydrated composition of asking and essentially not knowing what to say bit me last night. 

We're acquainted.

There was this familiar silence. Coming from myself, giving up.

And the people around me with nothing to say either. They made noise instead. 

I couldn't stand it. 

All these songs. Made for people like them. And they sang them and were miserable in each others company.  

Some people really disgust me. No. It's not true. They make me feel I'm so much more. 

And I know I'm not. For there's no right or wrong in general. 

Except to me. 

I am so damn much more. 

And because of this I will change my world.   

Rebecca

Dead End

Could it be?

- That the reason why human beings are in need of feelings (yep, still searching for answers on that one...) of the less obvious practical kind, is that we're too intelligent to be satisfied with basic feelings? That if we didn't fall in love or were able to experience the tiny changes in feelings towards the people among us, we would simply commit suicide or stop eating, stop having sex - stop sleeping? (Sometimes the best way to cure a lousy feeling is to just go to sleep, right?)

...

And the reason why we are this intelligent?

 

Maybe things just got out of hand at some point.

I should talk to somebody.  

Rebecca

True Happiness This Way Lies?

A heavy compressed very manly voice enters from the cheering of his audience. 

Hey Man! I've got what you need!

Have you ever wanted something so badly that it possessed your body and your soul through the night and through the day?!

Until you finally get it!

And then you realise (break)

That it wasn't what you wanted

after all. (Audience sympathising with oooouuuu - sound) 

And then those self same sickly little thoughts now go and attach themselves to something...

or SOMEBODY... NEW! (Audience laughs together)

And the whole god damn thing starts all over...

 again. 

(Here the crisp acoustic guitar starts...

and the speaker begins singing)

Well I've been crushing the symptoms

but I can't locate the cause

Could God really be so cruel?

To give us feelings 

that could never be fulfilled?

(and we feel some rhythm in his play, I myself start to rock a bit from side to side)

He ends the cosy song with this line:

The only true freedom is freedom from the hearts desires 

and the only true happiness this way lies. 

- Matt Johnson/ The The

What is this? Ripping off a highly respected artist on the very day of Santa Lucia!? 

Sorry, Matt. But listening to your words made me think about the same thing I thought about yesterday, and earlier today. The reason of feelings. 

I'm not in the middle of big feelings at the moment. It makes it easier to be analytic. 

So?

Feelings exist because they are necessary for us. Or else we would die. I have to assume that. Nearly everything we are equipped with from nature is because we need it to stay alive. (I say nearly because then I'm safe - I can withdraw if I realise that some things are a waste of traits...). But I'm so curious about, WHY in the whole wide world we need to feel so deeply about others?

I'm talking about love in all it's glory and shapes. Including romantic love, friendship, family feelings, pet love and loving yourself. But also the opposite feelings. 

I mean... If a human animal from the time before words and music existed needed to stay alive - isn't it enough to react to the most basic feelings as fear, safety, hunger and thirst, comfort, horniness, sleepiness etc.? How does falling crazily in love respond to this? 

I don't get it. 

But I'm a huge fan of feelings. 

So no complaints. 

This was just a parallel from the song. The subject is what it is. True. Another way to say; the grass is always greener on the other side. 

And don't we know that feeling? 

Rebecca

Goodnight with Frustration

WHO THE F... INVENTED TIME!?

I totally don't support the idea. It's like having this long, beautiful life in front of you - just close enough to touch it - but only just. And then ... puff... somebody takes it away. Sorry time's up. Maybe you'll make it tomorrow.

I feel cheated. My parents payed good money for giving me a life. And then the idiots just say; Time's up! Go to bed. You have work tomorrow. You're kind of tired, too. Right? 

Aaaarrrhhhh, I just want to do so muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch!

That's it. Goodnight with frustration. 

Rebecca 

A sad Story

Once upon a time there was a thought.

It wasn't a very clear one. Not very proud and certain of itself. And the girl it liked the most never remembered it. Because it was a thought it didn't have any functionalities to write with. No hands, feet or teeth. It means that it totally depended on this much-liked girl to remember it's story. 

The sad part is (as if the previous wasn't sad enough!) that also this time she didn't. She was just about to... but then some other thing occurred to her and yet another time the pitiful thought could only pack it's bags.

Some people (and thoughts it seems) just have shitty lives. 

But I'm not one of them.

Rebecca 

Close to the Almost

I nearly died today.

In the fog. The dusk sneaking in from the forest. A mix of that and bad lightning. Poor view of the turning of the road. Too many treas blinding me... 

 

But it didn't happen. No car came. Nothing killed me there. 

It would have been perfect, though.  

Rebecca

My Music

These days a lot of people ask me what kind of music I want to make. 

I usually say something vague. They don't understand and I agree. 

Today I found out. It won't be easy, but all good things come to those who work. 

I was walking by the ocean. I went there to listen to Sigur Rós on my Ipod, because I wanted to bring the music  home. It reminds me of mountains (but we don't have any of those in Denmark) and the sea. Makes me long to see Iceland. I know this ocean well. This is where I grew up. Where we'd go for walks with our dog, holding my mothers hand, playing with my brother. When I reached the light grey, whet sand I found a shell to draw with. Some weeks ago I did the same thing on the Valencia beach with Kate Bush in my ears. Today I added stones to the composition. Mostly because they were in the way. (You can see the drawing if you scroll a lot downwards). 

And the ocean welcomed Sigur Rós. How nice to take music back to where it belongs!

The above has a point. 

Later when the sun had set and I had just parked my scooter in the barn, I accidently looked up. The whole day, whole week, whole month it seemed at the time, I haven't been able to see anything besides a woolen, greyish blanket covering the sky. Like before a new act in the theater. Only grey.

But I was the remaining audience. Around me I heard the forest letting go of drops they'd collected during the rain. It was like small beats. And I felt surrounded by something very old and loyal. The trees were so tall, as if they wouldn't let me have a look. But in between them I saw my music and finally concluded: 

"I want to make music that sounds like stars."

I'm sure Sigur Rós had a similar experience on that dramatic island of theirs.  

Do you think curious people will have a clue, next time I'm asked?

Nope. 

But that's okay.

For I will.  

Rebecca

  

   

Please Forgive Me If I Act A Little Strange

"For I know not what I do." - David Gray

Before I sat down I was happy. Before I turned the mac on I was happily excited. Before I logged into my mailbox I was happy to wait. When I saw a mail from Valencia, I smiled a happy smile that lasted until the end of  his words. 

There were lots of happiness before, right?

But then my lips relaxed a bit. And my eyes went in. The music even... it didn't make me sway. He wrote something that made me understand that I wasn't just fine with how things were. It's so stupid. And I get disappointed in myself. That's even more stupid. 

So how were things?

Were? 

Are.

How things are?

I might be spoiled. But I'm not used to being turned down. I'm not just talking about men. I get any job I apply to, get popular among most people, get a nice place to live in when I need it and the nice roomies even drive across the fucking country to pick me and my stuff up. When I want to be a singer and play with skilled, interesting musicians in Denmark (or even Spain), well, that's what I get. It seems I'm the only one stopping myself. 

So when this great guy hasn't directly turned me down in words (but I'm not so stupid I don't get the picture, though), some time passes without us being in touch, then... I begin the hoping. 

Hope is naïve. Is dismissing the uncomfortable parts. Simply deleting stuff. Some reality bits. 

I'm not in love. I just love to be loved. It's pretty normal, I think? 

I'm writing this because it's stupid. Because if I do - there is a chance that he will read it and that's not good. And because I only write honestly. Showing somebody my weakness is doomed to make me stop hoping. I'm done looking good for now. 

I was hoping, okay? I didn't know. But I realised I was. Thanks for the wake up call. Once and again.

Rebecca      

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

As I entered my front door this late afternoon I felt somewhat down. It's been a while since I felt like this. Couldn't be the weather, because somebody reminded me recently that above the rainy clouds the sky is always blue or filled with sparkling stars. Flying just there in a Ryan Air bird some weeks ago I really felt that these words would stick this time. So, no. It wasn't the weather.   

Took off my coat, boots and scarf and went to the bathroom, where I dropped myself in front of the mirror. I've often found myself out here through the last weeks. Looking into my own eyes, chatting a bit. Today I asked the eyes; " What's wrong, you?" They looked a little tired but I also think I caught a sign of anxiety or disappointment. 

They had nothing to say to me. 

But I felt ugly. Dirty. Unattractive. That I knew. 

So I decided to take a long shower. Wash off the bad feelings. I undressed in a very slow and comforting way. Looking at my beautiful shoulders, letting the clothes slide over my soft, pale skin, feeling the black fabric letting go as layers of darkness. The water was getting ready for me. I was absolutely ready for it. 

As the drops fell on my body I knew I had to prepare myself for someone. As if an attractive guy was waiting in my bedroom. So I shaved. Leaving just a small, trimmed triangle above the venus. Soap. Scrub. Rinse... And then just a few moments of nothingness. Kind of like staring into a bonfire. 

Big towels everywhere. I'm in my room. In front of a bigger mirror. He is lying on my bed. Looking a me getting dressed. Tonight I wear stockings and a skirt. My red thing in memory of Valencia. And warm knitted slippers to break the image. Brushing my hair I begin to pose for him. Feeling better. Feeling like a woman. I undress again and look at my nakedness. Some years ago I was a teenager. Then I were a fitness/wrestling tough one. Then a slim, non-eating singing girl. Again some time where I wasn't aware of having a body.

This is the first time I see myself as a woman. 

Meanwhile I've realised why my mood was down. I'm afraid of being too lucky. I'm sort of thinking; if everything in my life works out so smoothly now, I will end up dying from some terrible illness before I'm forty. As if there were a limited amount of luck in life. It's stupid and I know that nobody is watching, calculating or keeping account of how I'm doing in life. Of course I know. It's just... hard to believe that I can do all this by myself. 

I've always wanted someone to watch over me. As a young girl I blamed God (he existed then) for making the wind too hard, when I was bicycling. Still, when I'm in a dilemma, I wish that somebody has the answers. One who can see into the future and tell me what the best move would be. 

So now, being single for the first time in my life (it feels like that) I'm doing all this without anybody helping me, and I just can't believe it. It might take me a while to grasp. 

A woman. Oh my. :)

Rebecca

 

Instant feelings II

Nope. She couldn't. 

Maybe because of the orange cake I baked for us?

Or maybe because she didn't try?

I like when I think I know people and then they show me, that I have no idea... 

Oh no. It's one of those days where Sigur Rós is begging for attention all night. "Play us, play us!" it says. 

"Alright", she says. "But then you have to stop making me feel so great, because I'm not big enough to contain all that greatness in my body." 

"I'm sorry," it says, " but I don't negotiate". And  then it goes crazy on the instruments, playing the same song as she witnessed live on Roskilde Festival last year. She could still feel the tears that landed on her chest.  

Rebecca

Instant feelings I

If luck and happiness keep shining upon me like this, I'll end up being religious. This kind of gratefulness must be similar to the feeling parents experience when their first child is born. Or... I don't know. 

I just feel blessed!  

Let's see if a visit from a traditional, concerned mother can fuck it up. 

I'll be back...

Rebecca

Mr. Right and Mr. Wrong

The wrong Valence guy is coming to Denmark. He's the one with beautiful eyes, the exotic background and the interesting hobbies and study. But he's also the one who hardly speaks any English. Or understands my questions. And indeed he is the one who tryed to fill out my mouth with his tongue in attempt to seduce me. I have to admit that it worked. Not the tongue-thing, but the "I -take-you-because-I-want-you-now"- approach. 

I only hope that we have enough time to practise some details besides language, while he is visiting. 

The right Valence guy has certainly occupied my mind today. Luckily my present jobs are ones where you can just leave your brain by the entrance and take it with you as you leave some hours later. I don't, though. Instead I fill it with music. And because I only had time to download a couple of albums this morning, I've been accompanied by PJ Harvey, Thom Yorke and Sigur Rós for 8-9 hours non-stop. 

Sigur Rós is the music attached to the right Valence guy and although he's been fading a bit during the last days, he suddenly showed up again there in front of me. Sitting naked on the bed on our knees, kissing a lot, touches so soft and careful, music filling the few empty spaces. And this was Sigur Rós. 

I'm so terribly happy that I finally have a reason to get to know this speciel kind of music. 

Tonight is the night where I finally begin reading a new novel and get some appropriate amount of sleep. 

Rebecca 

What We Forget in December

I have an idea.

It's kind of never going hit the surface. Maybe if I find a person that still likes to play as much as I do. But what are the odds?

Anyway - here goes:

It's December. You are driving in your car. On one of those smaller highways with cars in both directions on the same string of asphalt (which makes me think about something else! ... Well, later). Big enough for two and a half average car to drive side by side. But you're there alone in your car. Probably listening to music, turned all the way up, because they played Last Christmas a few minutes ago and the following song have to really stick hard into your memory to avoid getting sick. The temperature outside is some degrees above zero and there's a bit of anxiety in your blood because of all the things you have to do before Christmas Eve. Your heart beats a little faster, you eat badly and forget to call the guy who's had one of your chair projects for restoration a couple of months now. Trying to keep track of the gifts and the whole invitation schedule around the holidays. It's around 3 pm but you never noticed whether the sun went up or stayed in bed. The air is humid and grey. You realise it doesn't matter what you try to fill your thoughts with - you'll still be a bit depressed because of the badly lighted day and because time isn't treating you nicely. 

Suddenly you see something lying at the side of the road. Naturally you would think it's a rabbit or a bird that had gotten in the way of some of your fellow drivers. It's kind of sad, but it happens God knows how many times every day and you've even killed a few yourself, so it stopped affecting your emotions. Only this doesn't look like a bird at all. It's so red. Is it blood? No. You slow down. Move closer. It's definitely not a bird. Or a cat. But it's dead all right. What a weird shape. 

You pass the mystical carcass in a tempo so slow it's allowing you to see my idea there by the road. You're not sure... Is it really true? Gotta park the car some meters ahead. You step out with a puzzled look on your face. All the time looking at the "thing". 

Now you're standing where the "thing" was once lying. On the ground is blood alright. And in you're arms you are carrying one of Santa's Little Helpers. It's only the size of a normal adult cat, but you can see all the details quite clear. Its little fingers, the red cheeks and nose, the curly hair under the red hat. It's so dead. Somebody must have been driving too fast like yourself with too much on his mind. Like yourself. 

And this is when the idea becomes beautiful. Because now you go deeper into Christmas. You are holding Christmas in your arms and you realise that you've forgotten what it's all about! And it's surely not about being so busy it kills the very heart of it all. 

There you go! A human perspective has changed. Of course it shouldn't be a real Santas Little Helper - and I'm not sure whether it ought to be just a symbol (like one of those knitted ones our grand mother had everywhere on her couch) or if it should be so real you can't believe your own eyes.

The idea is to place these dear reminders along the Danish roads where you usually see dead animals. And I guess it's easy to apply to other countries as well. But then again - who would do something like that?

Rebecca

The Secret

My face has rivers. It has hills and mountains. Just above my lips there is a hidden secret. Like a treasure. To unlock this hiding place I have to be in a special state of mind. I have to be heading somewhere, have to be liked and noticed - even admired. Things around me have to be in motion and not one day must look like another. Lots of interaction and lots and lots of freedom.  

I call it "the classic". 

It's actually a beauty spot. A tiny dot of skin that is darker than the rest. To some people one of these can be tragic - because it brought them cancer and pain. To me it is a sign of me being alive. 

But the damn thing has it's own will. I can't force it to appear or stay no matter what I do. Because it's honest. I must appreciate it, when it's there and learn from my mistakes. 

Now you know. If you ever meet me. Look for "the classic" just above my lip on the right site of my mouth. If you see it you can be certain that you caught me on a special time.

Rebecca (without)