At the Gate

So here's a little something I wrote today while I was seated outside a palace in Copenhagen.


"And there she stood looking in from outside the palace gate, laughing at escaping fate. But it was the kind of laughter tinted with irony, with knowing something has been irrevocably lost. Freedom, perhaps, but at what cost? And what kind of freedom is it when the heart cries for something else? She was learning that there were many types of captivity."


I don't know what I'm going to do with it just yet, but I quite like it.