On the evening before leaving Copenhagen, we visited one of its iconic landmarks: the Little Mermaid. It took us forty minutes to reach the seaside. The Little Mermaid is situated on a pier in Langelinie Park, and along the way, we encountered sporadic fellow tourists seemingly headed to the same destination. The park featured small hills separated by the river, and in the glow of the setting sun, birds played among the trees while an elderly couple strolled hand in hand on the hills. A young man wearing a hat ran past us with light footsteps, seemingly in a rush. It made me ponder how our lives are in a constant state of motion – exploring farther horizons in our youth and slowing down to appreciate the surroundings as we age. Yet, the sunlight shines upon us throughout our lives, though our existence is confined to a small fraction of the universe, requiring us to spend our entire lives to explore it fully.

Along the way, we also encountered a father and son. The father was explaining the airplanes in front of them to his son. It reminded me of the small yet significant joys in our humble lives, wishing that love accompanies us throughout our journey. Finally, we arrived in front of the Little Mermaid. She appeared so tiny, delicately seated on a stage constructed from three large rocks. Her right hand rested on the rock’s surface, as if fearing she might fall off. I couldn’t decide if she was the brave princess from a fairy tale chasing love or a little girl who climbed up there and now feared the height. I zoomed in my camera lens, attempting to capture her greatness, but I realized her creator intended to portray her helplessness and vulnerability. However, the material of the bronze statue did not convey her fragility as much as it appeared. Perhaps she was indeed strong; I heard she had her head sawed off twice and her arm severed. Yet, here she sat, observing the surrounding tourists who surrounded her, some even standing next to her as if taking a family photo. The contrast between the tourists’ radiant smiles and her melancholic expression was intriguing. I chose not to take a photo with her, fearing her sadness might affect me. I only captured her silhouette from afar, leaving the rest of the stage to her and the tranquil sea behind her.