The King of Denmark
There he was, riding full speed on his scooter, down the bicycle track towards town. Through the narrow bits of Nørrebrogade. He wore his fluorescent yellow jacket and had a big on one shoulder. His helmet wouldn’t fit due to the volume of his hair, carefully wound into beautiful ropes. His sunglasses, acting as protection against the November morning cold were skewed, almost falling of as he smiled and yelled “MORSI!” whilst passing me by! Oh Moussa, if anyone is should be crowned the King of Denmark, it should be you! Love you brother.