Copenhagen Rain Quotes

My love turns me like a salt sea, it seems, Into sweet drops of autumn’s first rain. I’m brought to you slowly as I fall. Take me in. For us there’s no angel who will come to redeem. For we are together. Each of us alone.

At the 2009 climate negotiations in Copenhagen, the United States, Britain, Norway, and other developed countries committed $4.5 billion to launch a global initiative that would begin to assess the value of the world’s tropical rain forests. Four years later, in 2013, at the Warsaw Climate Change Conference, further rules set criteria for tropical countries to meet in order to receive payments in return for reducing deforestation or launching sustainable forest management strategies. Now global efforts focus on what the forests are worth, and who will pay to keep them standing.

In 1968, parked cars were cleared out of Gråbrødretorv, or Grey Monk’s Square, a small plaza dominated by a large shade tree near the Strøget. That summer, the owners of a café on the square set up a few tables outside their door. People sat down at those tables and ordered beer and meatballs, and they let the northern sunlight fall on their faces. It seemed a quirky anomaly. But those tables were the drops that led to a torrent. Now the city centre is crammed with outdoor cafés, close to nine thousand seats by Gehl’s last count. Danish winters are as miserable as they come – the winds from the North Sea deliver wave after wave of rain, sleet and snowstorms, and the weak sun disappears well before the end of the workday – but now you can see Copenhageners out on their plazas in the dead of winter, wrapped in woollen blankets, sipping little cups of espresso. Gehl collects pictures of them, proof that by redesigning city space, you can actually transform the culture.