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Chapters (21)
  1. Praise
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. IN A DEER STAND
  6. SUN DOGS
  7. HYGGE
  8. BY SYDVEST STATION
  9. BETWEEN OFFICES
  10. THE FAIRGROUND
  11. COMPACTION BIRDS
  12. PERSHING SQUARE
  13. HONEYSUCKLE
  14. ON NARROW PAVED PATHS
  15. INSIDE ST. PAUL’S
  16. THE FREEZER CHEST
  17. MANITOBA
  18. WILD SWIMS
  19. PUSHKIN PRESS
  20. ALSO BY DORTHE NORS
  21. COPYRIGHT

At the moment there’s no hunting. They’ve just finished shooting the summer roebucks. He can walk wherever he wants, across the fen, along the thickets, over the flats with a sleeping pad. “Don’t expect to come here and change anything,” they told him when he moved in. Some good advice, they thought. “That’s really not my intention,” he replied, indicating his adaptability with a smile. He has a flashlight out by the fuse box. He goes out and puts it in his backpack. In the kitchen he turns the electric kettle on. He should have said that they shouldn’t expect to change him either, but that’s not how the song goes, and he grabs a screwdriver. The door to Manitoba is undoubtedly locked.116

117

WILD SWIMS

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IN THE EVENING, THE HEAT HUNG HEAVY IN THE APARTMENT. I sat down on the floor in my underwear, closed my eyes. Down on the street the ambulances drove to and fro, but I’ve learned not to chase sirens anymore. As I sat there, I visualized a vast chilly landscape. It was soothing for a while, but after midnight everything was sticking to me. I went for a walk, out toward the big houses around Carlsberg. The front yards there smelled of elder and peony, and it’s good to walk at night. I thought of Emilie as I looked at the sleeping houses. As kids we wore dresses with goldfish and pleaded for candy and kittens. I thought of the neighbor’s cattle back home, the brick transformer tower, the fjord, and in the direction of Vesterbro I kept hearing sirens.

The next day I decided to bike to the beach, but instead I went out to Kastellet. I walked slowly around the fort, looking at the flowers and the water in the moat. It has its own geography, the water, and certain places were choked with duckweed. I saw swans and ducklings in the grass, while the coots grew agitated among the water lilies. It was a muted life. A swan flew across the scene, then a helicopter, then a couple of ducks, then another helicopter. The sky arched overhead, the geese grazed, and it wasn’t that the idyll was getting to be too much; it was more that it was there yet had vanished anyway, and then I was on the cusp of tears.120

On my way out I read the sign with the commandant’s regulations. It didn’t say anything about not swimming in the moat. Once in a while somebody must jump in, I thought. Wild swims are becoming increasingly popular across Europe. I’ve heard of a British woman, for instance, who managed to swim her way up through a large lake system somewhere in the middle of England. Every midsummer night she was out swimming, and I imagine her fighting her way up salmon ladders and into still waters.