I am getting used to the tempo of this new city, Copenhagen. Sometimes I gallop through streets that deserve a smooth trot, and some other times I just wander around cheerless industrial areas. This time I was lucky I didn't have my bike, so I was pleasently walking through the broad Øster Allé when I suddently saw colors unfold bravely at one of the sides. Ølufsvej street. 100 meters, a huge bazaar of details. I turned my "watch to catch" mode on eargerly. And I saw beautiful things. Not only the color of the houses, but the shapes of the corbels, the ceilings drawn in the sky, and insides that insinuate and show. Scooters and bicycles, football goals tied to trees and the peaceful leak of people going in and out, parking their bikes, choosing a color and going through the door. A car rudely crosses the street and then some kitchen sound comes to you, there's someone using a vacuum cleaner, and some other one seems to be reforming his dinning room. And this is how the "Postcard Street" myth dissipates and you conclude that there is life in here. Movement, stories. I have gate-crashed into Ølufsvej and the street has allowed me to stay all the time I wanted. And yes, sure I will come back soon to recharge my imaginary of shapes and colors, even if I am in a galloping hurry.