Dorthe Nors - So Much for That Winter

Minna glances down at Bergman.

Bergman says, I pretend to be an adult.

Bergman says, Time and again it amazes me that people take me seriously.

Minna loves Bergman.

Bergman lunges for Minna with the truth.

Bergman holds her tight, and now she glances at the door to the vehicle deck.

The door opens.

A small group of retirees trickles in.

Minna feels initially serene at the sight.

It doesn’t last.

Minna raises Bergman to her face.

Minna slouches in her seat.

Minna wants to get off the Leonora Christine.

The Leonora Christine has set course for Rønne, but

Minna wants to leave.

Minna was once a music teacher at a folk high school.

Minna taught weeklong classes for happy amateurs.

The happy amateurs signed up in torrents.

The folk high school provided housing.

The folk high school was always going bust.

The amateurs had dough.

People stood there with guitars and piccolos.

People wanted to be virtuous.

Minna tried to teach them a bit of notation.

Minna clapped in time.

Minna played Bach for them.

Minna was trampled by dwarfs.

Minna ran out of options.

Minna let them sing from the tired Danish songbook.

The amateurs sang, Is the light only for the learnéd?

Minna had her take on it.

The amateurs felt disgruntled about their rooms.

Minna found them new ones.

The amateurs lost their things:

Dentures, rollators, and spectacles vanishing every instant.

Prosthetic legs and large-print books: gone.

Grundtvig hovered above the waters.

Grundtvig illuminated the scene.

Grundtvig was high on sugar water and the life of the mind.

Minna had to see to all the practicalities herself.

The amateurs loved Minna.

The amateurs pinched her on the cheek.

The amateurs wanted to sing at the farewell party.

The party was full of music that Minna had inflicted on their world.

Minna wept.

Minna felt ashamed.

Minna needed rent money.

Minna was keeping the wolf from the door, but

The wolf was preferable in the end.

Minna quit and is now en route to Bornholm.

Minna sits behind Bergman on the Leonora Christine.

Minna has recognized the hindmost retiree.

The retiree’s named Gunvor Kramer.

Gunvor Kramer’s a happy amateur.

Gunvor Kramer’s a sincere person, but even worse:

Gunvor’s on Facebook, and even worse:

Gunvor’s convinced that she and Minna are colleagues.

Gunvor recorded a Christmas tape.

Gunvor recorded it on a reel-to-reel.

The reel-to-reel stands in Gunvor’s living room.

Gunvor is thus a composer.

Gunvor writes Minna often.

Gunvor writes about her breakthroughs in the art of music, but even worse:

Gunvor Kramer’s aboard the Leonora Christine.

Gunvor Kramer’s set a course for Minna.

Minna knows that her holiday hangs by a thread.

Gunvor’s in a car, you see.

Gunvor would like to chauffeur Minna around the island.

Gunvor would like to sing all her compositions for Minna, vibrato.

Minna presses Bergman to her face.

Gunvor passes by somewhere to the rear.

Gunvor walks slowly, slowly.

Minna turns cautiously.

Gunvor has sat down two booths away, with her back to Minna.

It’s silly of course.

Gunvor’s merely a person.

Gunvor loves #544 in the tired Danish songbook.

Gunvor loves chain dancing.

Gunvor has a droopy bosom.

Minna was dragged in as an unwilling witness.

Minna tucks Bergman into her backpack.

Minna rediscovers her sunglasses.

The sunglasses slip down in front of her face.

Gunvor’s started on the candy catalog.

Gunvor’s found a ballpoint pen.

Gunvor sets checkmarks by candy.

The sunglasses shield Minna from Gunvor.

Minna passes Gunvor.

Minna’s set a course for the stern.

Minna catches sight of the sea.

The Baltic lies blue and piercing.

The Leonora Christine shoves its way forward, self-confidence in its hull.

The Leonora Christine heads down the coast.

Minna slouches in a seat.

Minna hugs her backpack.

Minna oozes adrenaline.

Swedish customs opens for candy and liquor purchasers.

Swedish customs is full of retirees.

Gunvor forages.

Minna leans back.

No one heeds her anymore.

Minna’s alone and can plan her escape.

Minna’s arrived in Rønne.

Elisabeth’s gotten ahold of her.

Mom’s making plans for the weekend, but

Minna isn’t home.

Elisabeth wants to know where she is, but

Minna’s just not home.

Bornholm waits in the sunshine.

Bus #5 swoops across the island.

Minna’s looking forward to seeing the landscape again.

Minna’s quickly disappointed.

Bornholm had more cliffs in her memory.

Bornholm was exotic, Swedish.

Bornholm seems abandoned now.

The bus stop spots are dusty.

The butcher’s closed.

The baker, the dairy, the school.

Bjarne’s tanning salon has set up shop in the supermarket.

Bjarne’s tanning salon browns the serfs.

Bjarne’s tanning salon turns little girls into reality stars.

Bjarne makes a mint on the villages’ decline.

The provinces assuage grief with porn.

The houses are cheap.

The houses have signs in their windows.

The houses are OPEN, OPEN, OPEN.

Most folks have fled.

Randiness remains.

Minna can see that a country’s about to disappear.

Minna can see that the tracks point over the cliff edge.

Minna feels like a slum tourist.

That wasn’t the idea behind my holiday, thinks Minna.

Minna regards a shelter in Østerlars.

The round church has decamped.

The round church has taken a room in Copenhagen.

Grief is latent in Minna.

Grief seizes its chance.

Minna gets moisture in her eyes.

Minna wipes the moisture away.

Minna wants to find a rock in the sea.

Minna wants to go out to the rock and sit.

Bergman will join her, and a thermos of coffee.

The cliffs begin someplace.

Minna googled Svaneke.

Minna saw the cliffs on the web.

The idyll will take over sooner or later.

Minna glances down in her backpack.

The cell phone sits down there.

Elisabeth’s name throbs like an irate artery.

Minna shuts the pack.

Minna can see a large field of grain.

Minna can see a steep slope.

Bus #5 drives through the grain.

The sea appears at the foot of the hill.

The Baltic doubles over, vast and wet.

Bus #5 is headed toward Listed, and now it happens.

Bornholm opens up.

Bornholm looks like itself in the pictures.

The smokehouse has a flame under the herring.

Troll figurines have appeared in the windows.

The cliffs fall crumbling into the water.

The sea is blue-black, with swans in it.

The bus winds through charming houses.

The bus holds for a school camp.

The bus holds for another school camp.

The bus holds for a flock of retirees.

The bus swings gently down the coast and into Svaneke.

Minna presses the STOP button.

The bus stops by the hard-candy store.

Minna struggles with her wheeled suitcase, and then she’s standing there.

Minna stands there and is reminded of the Old Town in Aarhus.

Minna’s reminded of the trips to Ballehage Beach.

Minna remembers her toes on the pier.

Minna with webbed feet.

Minna with piano fingers.

Minna with song in her throat.