Borders » Blog
My journey to Copenhagen
Each border I successfully cross, the right to move freely feels more and more fragile. This feeling, familiar to many crossing lands around the globe, is new to me. It heightens at the sight of the policeman's gun, at the thought of my vacant passport gaze scanned and delivered to desks across Europe via Interpol or whatever else they choose to do with my 2D face and the map of my movements.