I walk these Danish streets at dusk,
where bicycles hum like soft intentions
and rules are not a burden
but the quiet grammar of daily life.
People nod, step aside,
wait their turn without a sigh—
as if courtesy were simply
the air they learned to breathe.
There is no litter drifting like ghosts,
no sirens to measure the hours.
The night is gentle here,
a place where fear has forgotten your name.
Windows glow with small, warm lights
and even the shadows seem civilized.
I think of home—
a nation restless with noise and contradictions,
where freedom is often confused
with ignoring the simplest courtesies,
and where following the rules
can make you the odd one out.
A land of many cultures,
rich and vibrant,
yet some of those cultures
would struggle to find footing
in this narrow Nordic script.
Denmark is costly, they say,
its taxes tall as winter ceilings.
But what they buy—
health without ruin,
streets without dread,
a life where the basics
are not gambles but guarantees—
feels like a bargain
compared to New York’s relentless math,
where every breath has a price tag.
Standing here,
between two shores of my own life,
I see how differently
a society can choose to be built.
And for a moment,
in the calm of this northern twilight,
I wonder what we could become
if safety and kindness
were not luxuries,
but expectations.
© Susie Stiles-Wolf