The apartment where I will be cat-sitting for the next few days is fabulous, too fabulous, such that now that the owner has left me and it for Paris, instead of exiting into greater Denmark I am hanging out, eating whatever meal-like arrangements I can make from the contents of her larder and being soothed by the Scandinavian design and unimpeachable blondness in every one of the portraits and watching “Friends” with Danish subtitles, trying to pick up a pronoun or two.
Back at the Ved Amagerport apartment, I make myself a bedtime shandy of Ribena and Carlsberg cut with a lot of tap water.
Is now the part when I try out writing in the second person? Ahem:
Back at the Ved Amagerport apartment, you make yourself a bedtime shandy of Ribena and Carlsberg cut with plenty of Copenhagen tap water. During the kitchen portion of the apartment tour, Inga told you the tapwater here is excellent, which is good to hear because you’ve been drinking it for two days yet. You think it tastes funny nationwide so far but are so very spoiled by New York City. Later, during the bathroom portion, Inga told you the water is also very hard — a lot of Danish calcium — so the temperature knob of the shower faucet doesn’t move as easily as a user might like. Later still, you try writing in the second person and find it horribly, prohibitively audience-conscious.
I said, I need to not just be moldering in this apartment Or this neighborhood, for that matter Manuel has gone again to Copenhagen and so I am charged with making my own plans for at least three days, and anyway when heʼs back so will his actual girlfriend be, too, which will change the shape of our interaction at least some I think Iʼm gonna go on a hike If there is one to be found As soon as my phone is charged Yes I will leave and get lost in the city, and something will happen And whatever it is will be better than this
