A garland around a large department store whispering “NoMadLand”. No mad land or nomad land? And doubt spread, for why this conjuration? And when one had squeezed ones way out of the absorbent mass of jostling bodies inside, the fragile human voice insisting on civilization as opposed to the oblivious inferno from which one had just emerged seemed sinister, almost prophetic. A nomad land? Well, even though Denmark is situated where it has always been, its inhabitants arrived here in great migratory streams. Historically we are a country created by migration, primarily from the south. A fact worth remembering in these years, in which although the world seems to be growing smaller, it seems strangely enough to be becoming less open and tolerant.
