What happens if you come back home one afternoon and you cannot go to your house because there's a police line in front of it?
What happens if the street begins to burn and 10 police cars stop in front of you?
What happens if the stones begin to fly and the reply is with gas?
Happens that is the revolution. Many people love the ungdomhuset and they don't want it to die.
Many people is in the street fighting for something that will disappear. What starts as a peaceful demonstration finish with crazy violence. Too much windows broken, too much fire, too much police, too much arrested people.
Jorg and me we are in the middle and we feel kind of radical mood. We feel also that we are living in the center of the world. All seems to happen in Nørrebro, and we are happy with it. We love this place, although we cannot feel joy for that is happening.
The long fights night leave rests of the konflict around all the area. Containers, bikes, everything is burning, and the rain doesn't come, the firemans neither. Maybe they are dancing the rain dance.
[qué pasa si vuelves a casa i no puedes entrar porqué hay un cordón policial? qué pasa si tu calle empieza a arder i 10 coches policia se paran delante de ti? qué pasa si las piedras empiezan a volar i la respuesta es gas? Pasa que es la revolución. Mucha gente ama la Ungdomhuset y no quieren que muera. Mucha gente sale a la calle a luchar por algo que desaparecerá. Lo que empieza con una manifestación pacífica acaba con violencia a saco. Demasiadas ventanas rotas, demasiado fuego, demasiada policia, demasiados detenidos.
Jörg i yo estamos en medio y nos sentimos un poco radicales. Tambien sentimos que estamos viviendo en el centro del mundo, y somos felices con eso, aunque no podemos estar contentos por lo que está pasando.
La larga noche de lucha deja atras los restos del conflicto en todo el barrio. Todo quema, bicicletas, containers, señales... y la lluvia no viene. Y los bomberos tampoco. Quizá estén bailando la danza de la lluvia.]
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