sunnudagur, nóvember 23, 2008

með rauðum fána

One of his oldest friends described him in their student days. Listening, I could see him in my mind's eye, a young man swinging one-handed from the pediment of a statue of Absalon, waving the red flag metaphorically if not literally. It was still the capital then, still the only university.

I wish I were able to stay up drinking calvados with him. I want to talk with him about these extraordinary events, the crowds of thousands in the square every Saturday. I have no doubt he would have numbered among them. But also -- and I am sad about this -- I am glad he is not here. Even had he lived to see these difficult days and been able to lend his voice to the growing outcry, I doubt he would have lived to see happier days come again.

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