The Hyggelig Journey

When my father fell ill in his final days, the lyrics of Shawn Mendes’ In My Blood became an unexpected refuge, helping me process the reality unfolding before me. The song’s plea — its raw, urgent cry against the weight of helplessness — resonated in a way that felt almost too personal. “Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in” — those words captured the suffocating dread that gripped me in the small hours, waiting for news, hoping for a miracle I already knew would not come. The song does not offer easy comfort; nor does it deny the pain of endurance. Instead, it acknowledges the struggle — the desperate search for strength when every instinct urges collapse. “I just wanna give up, but I can’t.” That was it, exactly. The exhaustion, the emotional erosion, the moments when hope felt like a cruel joke. And yet, beneath it all, an unspoken defiance: the fight continues, not because it is easy, but because surrender is unthinkable. The grief that followed those long hours ...

I struggled with the word. It lingered, soft yet insistent, waiting to be understood. Deafening — yet silent. Sharp — yet delicate. Crude in its rawness, yet rich with meaning, as though it had carried the weight of centuries while remaining as fresh as the morning air. Saudade. It is not merely a word but a feeling that breathes within, settling beneath the ribs, winding through the marrow of the bones, pressing gently against the skin from within. A presence intricately woven from absence. A longing that does not mourn but remembers, does not grieve but honours. For saudade is not only about what was, but also about what might have been — the beauty of imagined possibilities, the tenderness of dreams not yet lived. And yet, it is a gift. However much it pulls at the soul, however much it calls us back. I could neither reject it nor escape it, for it had taken root in me, filling empty spaces with warmth rather than ache. The more I welcomed it, the more it flourished — not like ivy c...

Now that the light at the end of the tunnel is finally visible, the mind wavers between hope and imbalance. Many have fallen victim to the syndemic, and many have survived, yet the scars will remain in humanity’s history for years to come. Recognising this is crucial because, in the years ahead, many will experience uncertainty. The fear that COVID-19 may leave lasting after-effects will be the subject of intense research. However, this is neither the first nor the last time humanity has undergone a collective rupture from normality. The difference is that you have witnessed it firsthand and will carry the critical perspective of someone who has lived through uncertainty. More than ever, we will celebrate life, yet among us will remain a lingering sense of sorrow, melancholy, and indignation that will take time to fade. Pain becomes history’s pages, while times of peace and tranquillity are only truly remembered by those who have seen the worst and learned to recognise t...