The Hyggelig Journey

One day, something I wrote ended up somewhere unexpected. It travelled unbidden, without direction, without a map. It drifted through the digital ether, carried by unseen currents, until it landed on the screen of someone I had never met. It lingered there, silent — perhaps unnoticed, perhaps read and forgotten in an instant. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone. I am not an influencer, nor a teacher, nor the bearer of any particular cause. I don’t chase trends or craft strategies. I write simply because I must — because the moment demands it, because something stirs within me and insists on being set free. But social networks are fickle creatures — like shifting winds, unpredictable and untamed. One day, they carry you far; the next, they bury you in obscurity. Their algorithms are vast, faceless voids — spinning, swallowing, indifferent. You cast a word into them, and it vanishes without a trace. You cast another, and inexplicably, it crosses an ocean. Many try to ch...

The paper sleeps, still, indifferent. The ideas, locked away in the dark, stir restlessly. Writing is this: a muted clash between the empty page and the overcrowded mind. No agreement, no truce — only a stubborn chiselling, word by word, until something at last breaks free from the chaos.