another heart on your sleeve

In someplace New Hampshire the sun finally sprung. Spring has begun to bloom and the snow that we had last week seems forever past. We had sunshine today. Birds were singing of summer nights to come and green buds are popping up between all the broken branches like little bulbs of hope.
Its not Texas anymore — so we don’t have 100 degrees in April and we’re definitely not drinking margaritas whilst getting bled dry by mosquitoes, but summer is officially on its way to New England.


Its no secret that New England is not the place that i’ll be buried. My life doesn’t match the culture here, but i’m proud to say that i tried it. In truth i believe its because it reminds me too much of why i wanted to leave England after all those years. I got the t-shirt so to speak, however, at least wherever i go the country is beautiful. There no denying that.
I always roam just out of reach because thats where life begins.

Jack and i are making note to walk as many of the trails as we can before we move on to our next adventure, to see as much of the nature of New Hampshire and Maine as we can. As i said it reminds me of old England with the stoney beaches, fresh green trees, hidden caves and slim country roads.
I’m hoping to come across a bear or a moose, as long as its not with the bonnet of the car or while we’re lost in the woods somewhere. I don’t fancy turning to scat before hit my prime…. if ever. I keep a log of the wildlife i see in America — and i’m always looking to add new fantastic beasts to add to my list. Its very Stephen Maturin of me — don’t know who he is? Look him up and read the books.
At some point i’ll dig out my list of American Animalia that i’ve come across. That could be interesting.


Theres nothing like adventuring with a Texas boy — he can find the country in anything. We drove with the windows down and country music crooning through our speakers. Living in some 80’s B movie.

I’m an old soul from a dusty old book forgotten on a dead actors bookshelf.
Jack says my hair is as red as the texas sunset – he says the best things to me. A man who single handedly changed my life and opened my eyes to living.
My heart was bound for the ocean, but i live dreaming ever onwards to somewhere i may never reach and now reaching anything doesn’t mean a damn thing. What matters is who i’m surrounded with on the way. Thats what makes travelling what it is — the freedom to live as free as a soul bound for somewhere with another’s heart on my sleeve. Cities and people aren’t my bag — i have my wolf-pack and the people that have changed my life but my game is in the rustling leaves, in the sap between the wrinkles of tree trunks, between the cloud where i fly, in the rock pools or in the nostrils of a bucking horse through monument valley. A caged bird wont sing.
I wont write if i don’t feel.

“Remain true to yourself, child. If you know your own heart, you will always have one friend who does not lie.”

a loose spark

I’ve always put Denmark on an imaginary pedestal. It was my goal when i grew up to move home and stay there forever. I wanted to be like all the other Danish kids. But alas, it was not to be — thankfully. England was not to be either. I thought maybe i could spend the rest of my life there but the older i got the more that sounded like a life sentence of grief. I have a relatively intense love/hate relationship with England, where i lived for 16 years of my somewhat short life. Lots of people have been envious of me living in the UK and growing up there, it had its upsides for sure. Like i had a great education with great teachers (most of whom i am grateful for to this day), i learnt to sail, and i left with some incredible experiences but for the most part living in England was definitely not for me. It was not entirely good to me, and i in turn grew to have a very bleak out look on life which strangely enough i’m very grateful for.

So i guess i can thank England for that too.

“Go back to your own country!”
“We speak english here.”
I remember hearing those words every day of my life for the longest time. As child i was very aware that i was different. The other children were always a little weary of me, some frightened of me and others were mean to me, thats fine but the older i got the more xenophobia i witnessed. I got through that mostly by thinking “this would never happen in Denmark.” When i got a little older i tried moving home to Denmark a few times and each without success.
I thought Denmark was to be my safe haven. My place. My country. My home. However, when i moved there i was met with the same, “go back to England”  “this is denmark — you don’t belong here.”

My poor hoping soul.

“So here you are,
too foreign for home,
too foreign for here.
Never enough for both.”
Disapora Blues

One of the shittiest things i’ve had to face, and it made me a little meaner.

That was when i realised that i didn’t have a home anymore.
Its a hard realisation that a place you dreamed of was never to be, and i think at a young age i already knew it but i pretended along anyways.

What did i have left?
I had freedom.
Freedom to find a new place.
Another life.
A new world.

Don’t fret. The door i wanted opened was locked, but a door i was supposed to walk through blew off its hinges and i rode through guns blazing — like a regular Calamity Jane with a shot almost as good as Annie Oakley, just not as consistent. Yet.

Home to me is where the coyote yells outside my window at 3am, where the June-bugs endlessly piss me off in May and where i get second degree burns from a seat belt. Its where i got married. I never wanted to get married but ya know — its Texas, and Texas boys are seriously dishy. Texas is the first place where i wasn’t chased through town with pitchforks and told to go back to where i came from.

I found my home by being “homeless,” and a lot of people never experience that.
I’m ready to move back to Texas.
And i can’t wait.
I also can’t wait to complain about it, because i know that heat is going to kick my ass and i’m gonna love every minute of it.
(Please don’t quote me on that) 

I learned that i’m more Danish than most. I made like the vikings and travelled around the world; by sea, by roads, on horseback and by plane. And thanks to England i have been blessed with the ability to realise that i can dream, and more importantly that i can and definitely should chase them.
I have both places to thank for who i was.
And Texas to thank for who i am.
And for cowboy boots because they’re comfy as shit.

So darling, don’t cry about closed doors, be open to those that let you in.
Trust me.