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Time We Shared


Š 2013 All Rights Reserved


“The less routine, the more life.� Amos Bronson Alcott


A

t this point, I have no idea what the project will end up being, but that is also far from my mind. More important things have happened. I am in the best company, with the people whom I would call family, not knowing what to expect of anything. Life is so much better with good friends. Friends who put up with all your bullshit, call you out when you’re wrong and wrap their arms around you just because.


T

oday has been a whirlwind. We hitchhiked with Daniel, a young man who is living in his car with his dog ­because his father threw him out. Now we’re ­camping, every now and then complaining about how cold it is. We should really just shut up because we have absolutely nothing to complain about.


I

t’s weird to meet other Germans here in Denmark. I like it much more to stay with ­locals or with friends – doesn’t ­matter which nationality. But to meet foreign ­Germans in ­another country always feels a bit wrong. I don’t know why. It is how it is. It was weird for me when Gabriele ­suddenly started to speak German after I told her where I’m from. She told me that she moved to this­­region with her husband, Andre. They found an empty cafe close to the beach in ­Klitmøller. They rebuilt it and called it “Cold Hawaii” and opened it again four seasons ago. The winter is always hard. No tourists and less surfers means less costumers for them, but it seems like they are lucky. Andre said that it’s hard to learn Danish ­because of the difficult dialects they speak. According to him, every village along the West Coast has it’s own dialect. Gabriele offered us free coffee when she heard that we are photographers – making a book about our trip and the people we meet: ”NO BRIBERY,” she said. Anyway, we are good. The break from the cold wind was long enough, the cups are empty – let’s keep going. Maybe we will come back – maybe not. Who knows.


Y

esterday we got a ride from here to our shelter. Sabine drove us. She is a ­biologist, also from Germany, and is ­working on a map for the government to check all the nature reservations around here. She is ­really open and nice. She told me that in the 18th Century, the West Coast was full of farmers. Good farm land. But all the cows and sheep­­destroyed the dunes on the beach- so ­destroyed that the wind and heavy storm put the sand from the beach across the land. That ­destroyed the good farm land and ­overnight, it broke some houses ­because the sand brought by the storms was too heavy on the roofs. In the beginning of the 18th Century, they planted special trees from the alps and western Canada to stop the fucking sand. That’s the reason why you can find a lot of dunes far from the coastline, on the inland. Crazy shit so. Sabine moved to Denmark 12 years ago to live with her boyfriend. They are still not married and have twins.


W

e have had the absolute best hitchhiking luck this trip. For every 30 ­people that don’t pick us up, there is one kind person that reaches out to help us along the way.

An older gentleman pulled over outside Hanstholm simply to talk to us. His name was Thor. He ended up being one of the coolest Danes I’ve met since I’ve been in Denmark. He told us that he is fixing up an old house that overlooks the harbor so they can have an art exhibition in August. He drove us to the house, which was on top of a hill. It was perfect. The light inside the empty house was perfect. Everything was ­perfect. Moments like that are the reason why I love making photographs. You never know where you’ll end up or the people you’ll meet, so you simply enjoy the journey and take in as much as possible.


A

teenage wasteland; I was a bit ­surprised to find something, that was so ­contemp­­­orary in its day in such a sad state. The origins of the community lie in waste, a large stage sits prominent on the property. Previously a scene of youthful expression and life, slumps now; the stage sagging from decades of rain, surrounded by overgrowth. Sitting on an old half pipe we cooked, it was really just a bummer, like the camp, the half pipe was nothing of its former self, I would have killed to have that half pipe when I was younger. The hamburgers were kind of shitty, a fire would’ve been better. I couldn’t wait to leave.


T

he sun is finally peeking through the clouds. The atmosphere today has been ­completely different from the other days. It was grey and foggy. We went for a walk along a beach that’s strewn in old German bunkers from WWII. They’re sinking into the sand and water, revealing their age. They’re terrifying. It makes you think about how ugly the human race can be, so ­willing and ready to fight with one another. It’s funny how these horrifying bunkers are on such a beautiful beach.


T

he road ends here. Tomorrow we will go back, already on a new road.


A very special thank you to all who helped us throughout our journey.


Frieder Bickhardt Shelby Feistner Andrew Schriver


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