I'm not one to profess love for CPH, by any means. But coming home after a good long travel is so fricken hyggeligt! Kill me now for saying that.
Bringing me down from this reverie of homelove is the fact that my bike got stolen. My beautiful, pretty, kind of just a normal but special to me bike. It had a nice basket (which I paid GOOD MONEY for) and a bell from Amsterdam, and a set of reindeer bike lights whose noses lit up. It was my stallion, my ride, and I was just getting the perfect pelvic balance necessary to ride without hands. And now it's gone.
Shed a little tear for my faithful companion...
My bike got stolen in Copenhagen.
It makes me very, very sad
because I loved my bike
and I locked it faithfully
and I decorated it with reindeer lights
and I bought a nice basket which was overpriced
[but what isn't in CPH?]
I ask you
why must people ruin other people's lives by stealing their bikes?
It's just plain mean.
I miss you bike.
I didn't even name you.