……..”And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the Kingdom of Bohemia and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler or when he refers to her photograph, it is as always under the honorable title of “THE WOMAN.”
I remember the day well. I was stood in a queue waiting to enter St. Albans church in Copenhagen. Princess Diana had been killed in a Paris car accident. The local British community in Denmark were now coming together for a service at the English church. I knew a few of the people who had decided to pay their respects. Bob Cobley was from the British Embassy and been a friend since my early days in Denmark. He was sincere and quite thoughtful about the tragic accident. Others in the queue were sharing their thoughts over Diana´s untimely death and reflecting on her contagious personality and how her approach to life and inspiration to so many had been diminished. I say diminished because a person like Diana could never be erased. The power of what she stood for would never die but perhaps become stronger over time as she proceeded towards some form of Sainthood.
“Do you think she was murdered?” Someone asked.
“Al Fayed, thinks she was,” replied another.
“I can´t believe she is dead,” said another
Two ballerinas from the Royal Theater on Kongens Nytorv in Copenhagen spoke of their warm feelings towards Diana and what she represented as a person. Christian and Sarah, a young couple wanting to engage in the conversation, also expressed their thoughts about the shock news of her death. The mood was very sombre and reflective. People from all walks of life wanted to do something physical to remember the occasion and cherish the moment for as long as their memories could serve them. St. Albans in Churchill Park gave them the venue and the setting to create that memory to serve their needs in the decades ahead.
I suppose I was conscious of the name Churchill Park from the time I had arrived in Denmark and yet I had never considered exploring the real reason behind its name giving. Sometimes you just accept the way things are and lack the curiosity needed to learn how things came about.
After the service inside the church I decided to take my time leaving. I wanted to go slow and remember the moment and ensure it was indelibly etched into my memory. I had decided, whilst singing one of the hymns, to walk over and take a closer look at the bronze bust of Winston Churchill. The weather was sunny and warm with the park basking in the final days of summer. The closer I approached the bust the more I could see the detail captured within all the bronze work. Churchill stood on a granite plinth facing South and beneath an oak tree. The bright sunlight created contrasting shadows and highlights under the leaves and in various places of the bronze artwork. His posture appeared pensive and focused towards something.
I smiled and said to myself. “The pigeons have had a party on you Winston!”
I studied his scowl and tried to imagine what he would make of the headlines coming out of Paris and London. I was referring to the death of Princess Diana. I wondered if I could see a tear beneath his eye and looked above to see the oak tree. It had probably released some sap during the warm summer months. I continued to study the detail in the contrasting daylight trying to interpret the whole moment. I was deep in thought when I heard a gruff, slurred voice say.
“It´s taken you two years to find me. You left England in 1995 and arrived in Denmark on September 11. Does that Fellowship you were awarded not have any meaning any longer?”
I froze and slowly turned around to see if anyone was stood near me. All I could see were tourists hurrying around trying to absorb as much of the setting as their cameras would permit. I looked towards the church and noticed it had emptied itself with only a few persons stood by the doorway making polite conversation.
I looked again at the bust of Churchill. I moved to position myself into his line of sight and looked directly into his eyes. Once again I turned around to see if anyone was watching. I noted a quick glance from the people over near the church and then returned my line of sight towards Churchill.
Before I could think Churchill said, “I´m in trouble. I need your help. I´m stuck between Heaven and Hell. They won´t let me into heaven until I´ve sorted out a few things,” he paused and then said, “The deal I made with the authorities, who administer the keys to Heaven offered me a chance to put a few things right. It seems these “things” have gone un-noticed during my lifetime. They would make me deeply upset if I was ever to find out later in Heaven, a place from where I would not be permitted to rectify the problem,”
I continued to stand almost as if I had become frozen. I cautiously and slowly looked around again to see if anyone was watching. The statue seemed to be able to communicate through some form of telepathy. It seemed as if Churchill´s spirit was trapped within the bronze.
Churchill continued, “The deal I made was a bit tough. The authorities said I had to wait around for someone to come along. This person or “chosen one” would then become my assistant and help me straighten a few things out. The Heaven authorities set a few conditions. One of which was that I was never allowed to return to the physical plane and had to be totally trusting of the person chosen to do the job.”
I continued to study the bronze whilst wondering about my options and if everything was just a bad dream. I am sure that many other people also imagine conversations with the dead either at graveyards or places of significant meaning, becoming transfixed with a work of art in a museum or a gallery that conjures up a picture of mystical reality. Something that is visual, physical and symbolic, and can offer some type of connection to the spirit of a deceased person.
I wondered what to do next. Should I leave and return home or should I get deeper into a telepathic conversation. I decided to fire a few quick questions back at the bronze and then go home.
I quickly asked, “What has all this got to do with me?”
The speed by which I asked my question was mirrored by the speed at which Churchill replied.
He said, “Do you see any furrows on my forehead?”
I quickly studied his large round forehead and thought about the pigeons only to be telepathically told that I should quickly start thinking about things from the day I was born and return for duty when I´m ready.
Reporting for Action
I dismissed much of what I had experienced in 1997 in Churchill Park but around the time of the new millennium in the year 2000 I once again started to wonder about how the bronze bust had come to be in Denmark. After 1997 I had talked with some members of the British community and also some of the local Danish people. Very few people knew the real reason on why Churchill was in Churchill Park other than an obvious link to the Museum for Danish Resistance with its famous Heinrich Himmler eye patch.
On the 26th of November 2002 I received a letter from Espen Kjeldbaek, Curator of the Museum of Danish Resistance. I had earlier written to him seeking clarification over the legal ownership of the bronze Churchill bust. I wanted to know who would be responsible if it was vandalized or damaged. He confirmed my earlier discovery that the bust had been originally placed in a garden at the 4th of May kollegium in Frederiksberg in 1955 and moved to Churchill Park in 1960, precisely 65 months later. He also confirmed that the Churchill bust had not been donated to his museum and was perhaps the property of Copenhagen City Council.
I then reviewed all known books on sculptures in Copenhagen. I found a book called “Skulpturer i København” published in 1999 by Jens Peter Munck. The book was without any mention of the Churchill bust in Churchill Park. I accordingly visited Copenhagen City Council, Dept for Roads and Parks and after several meetings the council agreed that the Churchill bust was part of their collection. A few years later a new book was published in 2005, written once again by Jens Peter Munck called “Bronze og Granit i København” and included basic information on the Churchill bust in Churchill Park (pages 25 and 26).
This was all good news and so I went to see Winston in the park and relay the fact that he was no longer abandoned and forgotten.
I proudly announced to Churchill, “No need to sweat anymore about the pigeons. I´ve found someone willing to adopt you,” I added, “Am I now done? Mission Accomplished? Will the authorities now open the door to Heaven for you?”
Churchill looked dismayed. He said, “They tell me we´ve taken a step forward and that we need to do some more work.”
I looked around to see if anyone was watching and noticed a black dog hurrying towards its master near a bridge over the moat into Kastellet.
I raised my voice and asked, “What else needs fixing?”
Churchill looked gloomy and said, “It seems just about everything.”
Fast forward to 2017
Kongens Nytorv is a square with its origins in 1670 and support from King Christian V. It is located at the beginning of Bredgade with the current French Embassy at Kongens Nytorv 4 being one of the first buildings. Charlottenborg Palace is located next to what was originally called Golden Lion canal and now known as Nyhavn. Bredgade, the street itself, leads up to Churchill Park and is lined with many grand mansions such as Møltkes Palae and Odd Fellows Palae with also places of worship such as the Russian Alexander Nevsky church and the small Roman Catholic cathedral of St. Ansgar. This was this street I walked along on a sunny, clear, cold day, deep in thought, on my way to study some books in the Design Museum library.
I thought about the journey I had made during the most recent years trying to understand more about Winston Churchill and the role he had played in defeating Adolf Hitler. There was no doubt in my mind that Churchill was the only person in Europe in 1940 to stand up to Hitler in war. Equally as important he was also the only person who had the power of speech to motivate and carry the support of the people with him. Peace had come to Europe in May 1945 and thereafter the World had moved forward with economic growth and higher living standards. Members and friends of my family who had fought in the war very rarely talked about their experiences. There were much better things to talk about. In 2017 the year 1945 seemed to be a long, long time ago.
After studying the books on Faberge in the Design Museum and trying to learn more about a Scythian gold bracelet I walked towards the end of Bredgade. I stopped and paused for a moment studying the new Goldsmiths Hotel. The hotel was originally called the Best Western hotel. It was also where we used to meet, shortly after the Millennium, with people equally interested in the bronze Churchill bust. We called ourselves the Friends of Churchill Park.
I looked across the road and could once again see St. Albans, the English church. I observed a few tourists taking photos of Churchill and smiled to myself trying to imagine what comments he was making at them. I continued walking towards the bust and as if his mind was some type of transmitter I started to receive his telepathic thoughts. Once again I became connected to Churchill´s mystical universe and his quest for knowledge.
“I hope you´ve found something out!” He grumbled, “I am starting to lose patience with the Heaven authorities.”
I looked around and said, “Do you want the bad news or good news first?”
“Bad news!” He quickly replied.
“Fine.” I replied and then said, “I´ve smashed up the silver Churchill medal I was awarded from your Memorial Trust in 1991.” I paused and added, “With an axe!” I thought it important to disclose the type of tool I had used to turn a piece of silver into futuristic artwork.
For a moment I thought he looked hurt but he then grinned. He said, “Creative people normally do things like that. I set fire to my 80th birthday present! It was a portrait painting of me by Graham Sutherland.” We both laughed and reminisced about our acts of vandalism, conscious that concerns about acts of vandalism had been the spark to cause a renewed interest in his being in Churchill Park.
He then asked, “How deep have you gone with your research? I hope this is the good news.”
“Australia.” I replied and said, “Listen, I´ve tried to put together the whole story about you being here in Denmark. It is not as straightforward as you may think.”
“You can say that again. Why do you think I´m still waiting for an entrance pass to Heaven?” Churchill responded.
I continued and said, “OK. Please listen very carefully to what I have to say. Since the summer holidays of this year I have spent a considerable amount of time going through microfilms of Danish newspapers from 1954-1955. I have also spent a huge amount of time interviewing people at the former homes of persons who made a donation towards you being here in 55.”
He remained silent.
“On the 19 November 1954 the Danish newspaper Politiken announced to its readers that a fundraising campaign was about to start for a bronze bust of yourself by Oscar Nemon. It was to be one of three copies, the others going to Windsor Castle and the City of London. The bust was planned to be located at Langelinie, this neighbourhood, and the hope was to raise 40,000 kroner. People could make donations through two Giro accounts. The account numbers were 4813 for Politiken or 688 for the Churchill organizing committee.”
Churchill interrupted and shouted, “Add them together. They equal 5501.”
I paused and wished I could fast forward my presentation but knowing he could read my mind I heard him mutter something explicit and so I decided to continue my presentation.
I said, “Within 24 hours of the first publication, Politiken received a letter from a reader who thought it more appropriate to have a Danish artist make a bronze bust of you,” I paused waiting for a comment and then continued, “There was an update on how little money had been received a few weeks later and then that was about it. However I noticed some other strange types of news stories in the run up to the New Year. There was one about 200 homes in Gentofte being burgled, with items such as jewellery and watches being stolen and the criminal police in Ballerup playing a role in identifying the person responsible.” I once again paused and reminded him that Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovina of Russia had once lived in Ballerup at Knudsminde before moving to Canada. Her former home had then become a police station.
I then said, “I also found a strange story about a bomb exploding underneath the tram Number 16 outside Bispebjerg cemetery. Remember the graveyard where the RAF are buried? Remember the RAF pilots and flight crews who took part in Operation Carthage?”
He was silent and deep in thought. I continued, “That´s about it for 1954. There are zero updates in 1955 on the progress of the fund raising and whether or not the 40,000 kroner target had been reached. However, I found another curious article printed around the time of the 10th anniversary of Operation Carthage and the 1945 RAF attack on the Shell house in Copenhagen. It seems that you were boxed up in England and ready to be flown to Denmark. Politiken reported that your plane couldn´t land at Kastrup because of fog and was subsequently diverted to Stockholm.”
Churchill kept his composure and said, “I remember receiving the news on winning the Nobel Prize for Literature. It was on the 6th of October 1953. I couldn´t go to Stockholm for the Awards ceremony due to a planned meeting in Bermuda. Clemmie agreed to go on my behalf.” He paused and then continued. “You know March 1955 was a bit tricky for me. Anthony Eden was after my job. I also made a major speech in the House of Commons on the 1st of March about the H-bomb and reminded everyone of an article I had written for Strand Magazine, published in December 1931, 24 years earlier.”
I studied him for a moment and then said, “There were some other curious stories in the newspapers during 1955. The main one being the Danish Prime Minister, Hans Hedtoft had dropped dead in Stockholm. He was only 51 years old!”
Churchill interrupted and said, “I remember that news well but please tell me about the unplanned journey I made to Stockholm, it does seem mighty curious.”
“Yes.” I said, “And just at the time when you were surrounded in a fog of mystery the Danish newspaper Politiken had completed publishing a series of cartoons on Sherlock Holmes! Remember Strand Magazine? The first cartoon starts in January 1955 and was called; A Scandal in Bohemia starring Irene Adler followed by a second cartoon called; The Mystery of the Wax Cabinet or some title of a similar meaning starring Maggie Harewood!” I let Churchill digest the new information to see if he could recall anything.
I said, “I have searched everywhere for the story written by Conan-Doyle and the mentioning of a Maggie Harewood. The only title of a similar meaning to the Danish title was called the Adventure of the Wax Gamblers. It is a story of horse racing and gambling.”
We both remained silent. I looked around the park and noticed two young children playing football near another statue. I guess it is quite a natural act to keep looking over your own shoulders every now and then when you´re having a telepathic conversation with a statue. I noticed a couple of executives from the shipping conglomerate A.P Møller walking towards a restaurant talking about something of great importance. Churchill remained silent.
I broke the silence and said, “Let us keep all the events which were being reported in the newspaper at the back of our minds for a moment and focus on you coming to Denmark. Did you know that this was not the original location where you were first displayed?”
“What?!?!” He said in a loud explosive roar and then asked, “What else has gone on?”
I grinned and said, “Think of gardens.”
“What Eden? Full Circle?” He answered.
I smiled and noticed his humour had returned and said, “You´re a real Albert Einstein today!”
Churchill responded, He said. “No!”
I replied and said, “Yes.”
Churchill started to reflect on two persons who had died around the time of his resignation as Prime Minister on the 5th April 1955. Albert Einstein had died on the 18th April, his last Will and Testament being published within 13 days of his death. The other significant death had occurred earlier on the 11th of March 1955 and was that of Sir Alexander Flemming, the Oxford scientist who had first discovered Penicillin which contributed to countless lives being saved during the war.
I kept silent whilst he reflected. I knew that if anything was going to make him very angry it was the circumstances surrounding his time in Denmark.
I continued, “I said at the beginning of our conversation I have both good news and bad news. What happens if what I am now about to tell you is both good and bad all at once? The knowledge and perhaps the sense of realization may be what is needed to get you into Heaven. This may be the very reason why your spirit has remained trapped between Heaven and Hell for so long. Just remember that once you´re in Heaven there is no way for you to return. If what I tell upsets you greatly think on it that it may also free you from where you are now. You can finally go and be at peace with yourself and be with all your family and friends.”
Churchill looked deeply troubled. He said, “Forward! Tell me what has gone on.”
I once again looked around the park to see if anyone was watching and started to reveal parts of my research.
I said, “You were first placed in a garden in Frederiksberg where very few people could see you including those who had made a donation. The garden was at the rear of the 4th of May Kollegium on Bredegade, Frederiksberg. The street must not be confused with Bredgade, the street I have just walked along. The “e” is the only difference. The fact that you were put in a garden seems to have been dressed up and linked to the legacy of the Freedom Fighters in Denmark even though, for all intent and purposes, the location of where you are now today was also intended to have had the same relationship.”
I continued, “The 4th of May kollegium is linked to the resistance movement, and is used for student accommodation for all the children of the Danish resistance fighters whilst studying at the University. However, the people who made a donation towards you being in Denmark were never notified of this change of location through Politiken newspaper. It seems that approximately 2000 persons, companies, associations and organisations in Denmark as well as a small number of interested persons in Britain paid towards the cost of you being here.”
I continued, “Diana, your daughter, travelled to Denmark for the unveiling ceremony on the 4th of May 1955. There were many other events in Denmark on at the same time because it was a celebration to mark 10 years after the end of the Second World War.”
I paused to let the moment sink in and said, “Professor Carsten Høeg made a speech at the 4th of May Kollegium in front of many distinguished guests and before he had got further than the 4th line he had used the word “remarkable” four times at you being placed in the garden. He then added that you would soon be moved! Then on the 7th line from the end of his speech he referred to you as a monument of “Visual Impression” repeating once again that you are soon going to be moved away from the garden!”
“What?! Why put me there in the first place?” Wondered Churchill.
I ignored him and continued, “Let us just pause for a moment. Do you remember that strange letter addressed to Vincent Churchill in June 1945? Joachim von Ribbentrop had handed it over to the arresting officers when he was captured in Hamburg. He was living at Schluterstrasse 14, near Hamburg University and the old telephone building.”
Churchill didn´t respond. I could hear his breathing and the sense of his mind racing through the recesses of his memory searching for long lost archives to help recall the incident.
He eventually said, “Yes I do remember that incident. The letter baffled everyone. We sent it on to America and Russia but no-one could figure out the meaning. We were so desperate in 1945 to get inside the mind of that tyrant Hitler and try and understand more about his thinking. Everyone who read the letter simply assumed Ribbentrop had lost his mind and gone slightly mad.”
I kept quiet to allow the issue of the Vincent Churchill letter the possibility of being quite significant.
Churchill appeared very sombre and reflective.
He said, “There were quite a few people who were really concerned after the end of the war that the Nazi´s were going to go underground and carry out their fantasy dream of establishing a 4th Reich. There were many stories about the so called Nazi Werewolves and another group, I think it was the KG 200, with a stay behind unit called OLGA. Their target was France and Britain.”
I smiled and said, “This brings me on to a small probe I launched after the summer holidays this year. I wanted to see if it was possible to track down any of the families or organisations who had made a donation in 1954/1955. For purposes of geographical simplicity I decided to make the investigation in Gentofte municipality. The municipality is renowned throughout Denmark for its grand villas and there is also a reduced risk of demolition of these buildings to make way for new developments.”
I continued, “I tracked down 135 homes in Gentofte with a further 7 in what I would determine as a “grey area”. The “grey area” included two donations from the same address or company names used to make donations, etc. I also tracked down 3 addresses just over the municipality border at the pretty, coastal village of Taabæk in Lyngby. The total of the 3 house numbers was 65d + 65 + 3 and equal to 133.”
Churchill also smiled and seemingly with ABC =123 at the back of his mind said, “So you´re going to tell me, e=mc2?”
I quickly replied, “How many full length furrow lines did Einstein have on his forehead? If you study a map of the location where you were first placed in Frederiksberg and look due West you would see the Royal Copenhagen porcelain factory. If you look due East from your Frederiksberg location the line would go through Denmark’s National Bank and curiously through quayside number 855 at Prøvestens Havn.” I grinned even more and then said, “You want to check out the original English comic of Sherlock Holmes that first published the two stories in 1954 with Irene Adler and Maggie Harewood. The ones that were republished in Danish during January and February 1955.”
We both started to grin plenty. Churchill started to laugh. He said. “This makes big NEWS Head Lines! North East West South!”
I was so happy he had found his sense of humour and decided to continue with my Gentofte update.
I said, “I decided to make a very quick analysis of all the addresses and telephone numbers of those persons who made donations. All the names and addresses were originally published in 1955 on the 4th of May in the official programme for your unveiling in Frederiksberg. Remember, my research was a very quick probe and there may be a slight margin of error.”
Churchill interrupted and said, “Forward. Tell me everything.”
I explained, “I discovered that only 5 pages out of a total of 15 pages linked to donations made from Danes are 100% complete when linking their house numbers to their 1955 telephone numbers. These were pages 9, 15, 17, 20, 22 which total 44 houses. The grand total of all the house numbers added together is 2,059. I´ll tell you something else. When on page 20 and when adding up the house numbers, the number 617 appears after the 4th house.”
Churchill interrupted and asked, “What´s so strange about that?”
I grinned and said, “It is a reflection of the telephone number from the 3rd house. The telephone number is 716!” I paused and continued, “A person by the name of Prytz lived at that house. The name was familiar to me because another person called Prytz was a former Chairman of Hellerup Idraets Klub some 50 years or so earlier. He had taken matters in to his own hands by not allowing sport to be played on Sundays and changed the club rules. Three “Schultz” brothers whose family was closely associated with the club all drowned in separate places which created the letters KFR. I always missed the letters “A and I” from the puzzle.”
We both considered the impression and thought about Sherlock Holmes and the quay.
I continued, “The grand total of all the telephone numbers on page 20 is 153,730. Now what do you get if you divide that number by the total of all the house numbers?”
Churchill smiled and said, “74.66. The first two numbers are the year of my birth and the second two are linked to my age in 1940.” He paused and said. “Hitler would have also been in his 66th year if he was alive in 1955.”
I grinned and said, “The telephone number for Gentofte Town hall was 6600 in 1955”. I then paused and said. “The French school which was accidently bombed during Operation Carthage in 1945 was at Frederiksberg Alle 74.”
We both knew where our lines of thought were going and I could see people were starting to notice me looking at the Churchill bust. There was a sense of realization that something else had been interwoven during the years of war and in the following years of peace. I could also sense my telepathic link with Churchill was slowly losing its strength. He was starting to become more distant. I sensed he was drifting away and I was losing him. I needed to be as quick as possible with what else I had to say.
I said, “I do not believe for one minute the donations from Gentofte were made simply through all the publicity in Politiken newspaper. Someone must have gone knocking on doors requesting donations and yet there is no evidence. I have been unable to identify the people working in the name of the former Freedom Fighters at Callisensvej 25, Hellerup. A dentist and another person were shown to be living at that address in 1955. The street is on an East West axis and crosses Hellerup Strandvejen, identified on a map as the 152 road. Callisensvej, at the 152 road junction, is opposite Carolinesvej. If anyone was going to go collecting donations for Churchill it would surely have been the former Freedom Fighters.”
I continued, “Nearly every page in the official programme is like a journey on a map when you create a list of all the Gentofte homes which invariably ends somewhere near Klampenborg race course. Did you know the horse that won the Derby in 1911 was called Lille Claus? There were 24 pages in the official Churchill bust programme. How many people were around the table when the bomb went off under the table at Rastenburg, Poland on 20 July 1944? If you draw a line from a donation made from Sauntesvej 13 towards Taarbæk Strandvej 65 it passes straight through the old bunker at Klampenborg racecourse of which is directly next door to the grand wooden Tribune building.”
I continued, “What was the so called Visual Impression referred to by Professor Carsten Høeg in his speech? It is a pattern of distinct impressions. Events that catch your attention. Nothing more catches your attention when you realise his speech was only 66 lines long. What about the first 4 lines of his speech? He obviously wanted to draw attention to the first 4 lines and the last 7 lines. Who else in history made “remarkable” impressions within the space of 4 lines?”
Churchill seemed slightly uncomfortable. His telepathic messages were becoming very faint. He said, “Nostradamus and his quatrains! Predictions can sometimes be copied. Events can be shaped to seem as if they are natural and then someone like Sherlock Holmes comes along and tells us that everything was stage managed”. He paused and said, “It´s the Arts of War.”
I had recently read the book he was referring to by Sun Tzu. The only difference being mine was called the Art of War.
Churchill continued to speak. His voice was almost inaudible. He said, “Read page 617 in a book called “The Arts” by Hendrik Van Loon. It was published in 1937 by Simon and Schuster.” He paused once again.
It seemed as if he was having difficulty. His words were so silent. They were starting to become more and more dwarfed by the noise of cars on the road and other sounds from my immediate environment.
Churchill spoke for the last time. He said, “Knowledge is the treasure. Go North and West from here…………… Thank you for everything.” Once again he paused and in one last breath said, “Merry Christmas…..”
I was so stunned by what had transpired. It seemed as if the whole world had stopped. Slowly I turned around and walked across the lawn in the late afternoon half daylight towards Bredgade. I tried to reconcile the meaning behind the telephathic exchange of information. Being able to communicate with Winston Churchill was up there in outer space with the “out of the box” Aliens really do exist world. It was almost laughable and well beyond anything you would ever want to own up to in public.
Opposite Goldsmiths Hotel I decided to walk back down the Bredgade towards Kongens Nytorv. I wondered about everything and all the knowledge I had gained during my journey. An inner voice told me it all made sense. Visual Impressions were the key to greater knowledge in this rather strange but addictive labyrinth of awareness.
At the junction between Frederiksgade and Bredgade I looked North West towards Frederik´s church, more commonly known as the Marble church. The dome always reminded me of St. Peters in Rome. I then looked South East and through the quadrants of Royal Palace buildings at Amalienborg and beyond towards the new Opera House. The Opera House had originally been communicated as a gift to Queen Margrethe of Denmark.
I studied the entrance foyer to the Opera House and the huge circular glass window looking directly towards me. In the years since it had been built I had always conjured up the impression of the curved glass window resembling a huge “all seeing eye”. That was my interpretation any rate but today and perhaps it was because of the warm light inside the foyer I saw something completely different. The “all seeing eye” had become a huge forehead. I studied the many horizontal lines spanning the large glass window and wondered if I could see parallel furrows. Not Churchill´s. Not Einstein´ s but those from an earlier impression, a long time ago.
A voice then said, “Remember your summer holiday in Italy and the home of Maria Callas in Sirmione, Garda? The Roman Villa Catullo and the head of the Dioscuri?”
I am not joking when I say that I froze. It was just like I had been hit by a bolt of lightning. My mind raced for answers. I then slowly made a 360 degree turn scanning everything I could see trying to determine where the voice had come from. I could see no one and in a sense of realization my stomach gradually sank towards the ground as it became more apparent that I was not alone.
Slowly I grinned and oblivious to the world around me telepathically announced to the living dead, “It sure as hell beats talking to trees!”