Photography by Alexander Schneider
Cover photo by Quentin Lagache
Words by Freddy White with the help of Remy Meister
That’s not saying much, actually, and re-watching Karsten Boysen’s edit for the 50th time will easily convince you all I’m speaking the truth. If you weren’t there, you missed out. And if you’re not planning on being there next time, your brain must have suffered some severe damage at some point in your life, so severe indeed I’m even surprised you know how to read.
Maybe you’re still able to do some algebra though, so if your mathematics skills allow you to guess the correct answer to 2 + 2, here’s a simple equation you might be able to understand. 10 days of fun, parties and camping + some of the best music artists and gigs on Earth + the best wooden bowl there is + a great crew of rollerbladers, and overall great people all around + some of the finest girls you could ever dream of = Roskilde festival.
Of course, I pretty much suck at maths, and I had to cut this one short because it’s almost pointless to put such an amazing, overwhelming feeling into words. It’s the kind of high you just wish you could experience every single day. Which might be the reason why Rémy’s worn his Roskilde shoes down to the sole, and there’s an orange lace stuck on my head ever since we came back from this trip. Now, I only wish I knew of a way to divide the remaining time until the next festival.
Mathematics be damned. Still 243 days to go.