A beautiful summer's evening in London. After a pub's affair for World Cup with S., I cycle back home through the usual route with Billie Holiday in my ears. Usual yet unusual... High Holborn's there the same way, so is the City, but something isn't or rather ought not be. Yet, still there, that's the Foundry at the edge of Great Eastern Street and Old Street. The haven for many who passed through here, now a subject of complete demolition to make way to a new fancy hotel the neighbourhood community don't want. Maybe the international agency of leather suit travelers want it. Since Monday, locals have been sitting-in in front of the building to avoid destruction. So far, a 48 hours of success. And tonight, as I pass by, on a nice summer's evening, they've put up a torn up clothing against the wall as a screen and are screening a documentary on Ungarnshuset in Copenhagen.
A familiar language on the screen. The frozen and the warm streets of Scandinavia over the short time of life I spent there. As I stop by to watch, more and more do so and we add up. It was a warm summer's day I left Denmark 4 years ago. There was the smell of warmth and friendship in the air and the World Cup fever around the corner...
