Backward

Last weekend I went back to Denmark for the first time since I left.

It's still flat

and perfect and cold.

As it spirals upward, the cracks start to appear.

All of a sudden it's not a map or a dollhouse

but an actual city where you lived and worked and grew up for six years.

From the ground, you can't see all the straight lines, only the one you're standing on.

So you just look ahead, until the country falls off the horizon.