Mikkel Hørlyck

Suddenly, the boat in distress from Libya capsizes and everyone, 41 people, falls unluckily into the water.

The leader of the boat ‘Mike’ uses a stick to catch the hands of people in the water. Here he saves the life of man and the rest of the crew on ‘Mike’ gets him onboard of the boat.

Members of the boat ‘Mike’ catch the arm of a man and get him onboard the boat.

People who are refugees and migrants have come onboard the boat ‘Mike’.

During the night, the crew of ‘Mike’ and ‘Orca’ comes to another ship to transfer 44 people, who were saved by the members of the ship ‘Broadway’ who sails chemicals to Misrata in Libya. They come onboard Geo Barents, since the route for ‘Broadway’ is towards Libya, and it is not considered as a safe place for refugees and migrants.

People from the first rescue are sleeping and taking a rest. There were 41 people. 39 men and 2 women. Their first meeting is the day after at 09:45 am.

People from Asia and Africa are standing for a portrait, in the gap in the back of the boat, where you can see The Mediterranean Sea and other boats and ships.

People from Africa, Asia and The Middle East prepare themselves and get instructions from the crew of Doctors Without Borders, before disembark to Italy harbor in Taranto. Here, they say goodbye to the crew of Doctors Without Borders.

The leader of the boat ‘Mike’ and two ‘Search and Rescue team’ members helping a man from Africa onboard the boat ‘Mike’. The guy is exhausted and the nurse (right) is taking care of him a minute after.

A man from Africa takes a rest, while enjoying a bar of food.

A survivor is looking at The Mediterranean Sea. Since 2015, Doctors Without Borders has helped 87.000 people on The Mediterranean Sea.

April 2016. Jørgen Pedersen (56) refers to his own life as a "heavenly hell". On heroin, you're in heaven, without it in hell. He has played his part on the drug scene of Aarhus since he moved there as a teenager and was first intrigued by the rush of heroin.

Today, Jørgen visits the heroin clinic every day where he receives two daily heroin fixes as well as aid in health and practical matters, just like 19 other heroin addicts in the city.

Jørgen, a Mystery 2016-2021: As a photographer, I wouldn't doubt a second saying, that I had the honor of photographing a legend. Jørgen? He cheated death. Many times. But he didn’t do it alone. Doctors, nurses and guardians were a great help through the years. They saved him - again and again.

Jørgen Pedersen should have been dead long ago - considering his age, countless diseases and 40 years of drug abuse. I loved photographing him from our very first meeting to the last. He was a scientist of drugs. Freud of the drug environment. Satan’s favorite. A sophisticated mindset and extroverted being. A holy man. A rich character.

Jørgen is preparing a fix in his apartment. He loves art. "When I daydream, it’s always about wealth. I’m fascinated by money. When my brother Ole and I really had it going, we did not want for anything. We wore brands like Ralph Lauren and Lacoste, ate out, took a cab whenever we needed to go anywhere,” says Jørgen.

The day before, on Jørgen’s way to his morning fix, he crossed a red-light right in front of a police car. He ended up in handcuffs. “They grabbed him hard,” says a social worker. First, Jørgen went to detention, later he went to the hospital because his shoulder was aching. The day after, Jørgen is still in pain.

The other night Jørgen’s mother, Inger, fell from her bed and hurt her back. She is in pain and Jørgen supports her in her kitchen. Inger's health has been significantly deteriorating over the past year. "I can't stand the thought of my mother passing away. I can't take it," says Jørgen.

Jørgen is preparing a fix in his apartment, while listening to music.

Birgitte (62) and Jørgen listening to Roger Waters in Jørgen's apartment. Jørgen is singing along: “It’s a miracle, another miracle”. Birgitte and Jørgen have been apart for six years but in the spring of 2018, they found each other again in an affectionate friendship. Prior to the break, they were together for 25 years.

Birgitte too is a drug addict and when she and Jørgen used to be together, she earned a living as a sex worker, while Jørgen was dealing drugs. “When we were young, I used to pray to God to have Birgitte be mine. I saw her do a show at a downtown disco once. Since then I was sold,” says Jørgen.

Jørgen has just discharged himself from the hospital and is on his way home. Jørgen's one leg was double its normal size because of an infection. He loves to swing his walking stick when passers-by are looking. “I want to make a playlist for my funeral titled “Highway to Hell," says Jørgen.

On his way home from his mother, Jørgen has to use the customer toilet in a grocery store to recharge his energy before he takes the bus back to Aarhus.

“I do not want to die. It is so unfair. I only think about my mom,” says Jørgen. He cries at the end of every sentence. Jørgen has lost way too much weight the past month and has been hospitalized at Skejby Hospital. He is afraid of falling asleep and not waking up again. His liver cannot recover because it is troubled by his liver disease and the tumor at the same time.

Birgitte (65) says goodbye to Jørgen in his entrance, two months before he was hospitalized. Birgitte and Jørgen have known each other for 36 years. "I am constantly worried about you," says Birgitte.

Jørgen (61) lies dead and in peace at the chapel at Skejby Hospital. Part of Jørgen’s last will contained that he wished that one of his angels should be placed on his chest on his way to heaven.

His mother Inger visited Jørgen on the 4th of September. Jørgen couldn’t barely talk. Suddenly, the sun shined on his room and Inger began to sing: “In the east the sun rises''. Jørgen found strength and spirit. He sang with her. After Inger’s visit, Jørgen fell asleep. He never woke up again.

“He was a beautiful, smart and persistent human being. His will was made of steel. Like his mothers,” says the nurse Kerstin, who knew Jørgen for many years. "He was a very educated man," says Thorleif, a friend from primary school, whom Jørgen has been in touch with ever since.

Six weeks after Jørgen’s death, his mother Inger (88) died.

Andrei (10) looks up without seeing. He was born blind. At the orphanage the most common diagnoses are autism, Down’s syndrome and epilepsy. Andrei and his group are outside getting fresh air. At the same time, a social worker drives a boy up and down the road, who she sings to and entertains.

The Neglected: The Neglected explores the emotional life hiding behind the walls of an old institution for disabled boys in the town Orhei in Europe’s poorest country, Moldova. The 200 boys and men who live in the institution are all physically or mentally disabled. They are being cared for by an understaffed but hard-working crew of female social workers.

Poverty is the primary factor for their parents feeling forced to hand over their boys to the orphanage. The one thing the boys have in common is the lack of care and attention from a family – affection that is crucial to their development.

In order to protect the boys, institutional policy requires their names to remain anonymous.

Petru (23) spends most of his day with his eyes shut, while blocking his ears with his hands. Often he yells loudly and hits himself. Petru is out getting fresh air during one of the daily trips around the premises. Suddenly, he stands up, opens his eyes and looks up into the sky.

The social workers wake the boys up from their naps in order to dress them before dinner. They work 12-hour shifts. The lack of time and number of boys in every group doesn’t give them enough time and energy to provide sufficient care and pay enough attention to the boys.

The orphanage must cut back on expenses this year and therefore the amount of social workers assigned to each group will be lowered.

Max needs help to do almost all activities during the day. He is wearing a straitjacket, which makes it easier for the social workers to feed him during dinner.

Most of the boys never receive visitors. Marius (12) is lucky. His parents have come to visit this Friday. They have brought homemade strawberry mash and sit down on a bench below a tree. Marius’ dad, Grigore, fetches his cane and takes Marius, who suffers from autism, by the hand. Together they dance, until Marius falls into his father’s arms.

In a disused metal factory, in Northwestern Bosnia, Fawad Nasiri (23) stares into the flames from the fire. "It's going to be alright," says his friend and Afghan countryman Sirab Khan (19), who puts his hand on Fawad's shoulder.

Fawad is thinking about his girlfriend, who he met while living in Greece on his route across Europe. Today, she's in France. That's where he wants to go.

No Man's Land 2021-2023: In Northwestern Bosnia, around 10.000 refugees and migrants have gathered. When trying to cross the border to the EU, they face 6,500 Croatian police officers who are standing side by side to keep them out.

The police beat, humiliate and abuse the refugees and migrants frequently. They destroy their phones, steal their money and property, reject the possibility of applying for asylum and send them back to Bosnia. The method is called 'pushback' and during the six years it has been going on, the EU has supported and strengthened the Croatian border police with €150 million.

Across the border, thousands of refugees seek temporary refuge in abandoned buildings, old fabrics, homemade shelters and empty buses. From there, their main focus is to cross the border to Croatia. They call their border escape ‘The Game’.

Nasiha Qarmish (37) from Palestine is walking away from the Croatian border, with four other families, in flip flops, clutching her sleeping daughter. The Croatian border police took Nasiha’s shoes. The four families are at a loss of what to do.

Hewad Piroz (23) washes his hair with his companions from Afghanistan. The group has been traveling for five months and has fled the Taliban. They sleep with 100 other refugees and migrants in a large, disused metal factory in the town of Bihać. The landscape is flat, but on the horizon refugees and migrants see their escape route: the mountains to Croatia.

Marzyeh Ahmadi (38) and Ali Ahmadi (42) try to comfort their youngest child, Marya Ahmadi. They are on their way back from their 38th escape attempt to Croatia. According to the family, father Ali was beaten and humiliated by the Croatian police, in front of his family, before they were sent back to Bosnia.

All of a sudden, a car comes speeding with only one light on. The parents shoot their heads back: "Is that the police?!," the family yells. But inside the car a group from Germany sits. The car is filled with food and the group wants to hand it out to refugees and migrants.

It’s illegal to help refugees in Bosanska Bojna, so the Germans do a quick stop and hand out telephone numbers, so that the Ahmadi family later can get food and toilet paper.

Atefeh Mohseni (10) lifts her little sister Nazanin Zainab Mohseni (3) and kisses her on the cheek. Nazanin calms down.

Atefeh and Nazanin have experienced 20 failed escape attempts of ‘The Game’ at the Croatian border with their father Hassan Mohseni (39). They live in an abandoned house in the bordertown Bosanska Bojna in Bosnia-Hercegovina.

Earlier, Atefeh and Nazanin’s mother and brother were with the family. But the family split up to improve their chances of escape. Atefeh and Nazanin’s mother and brother managed to get to a refugee camp in the capital Zagreb of Croatia. “The only thing I think about is reuniting my family. I will never stop crossing the border,” says Hassan Mohseni.

The abandoned house is empty. All families have left it to try ‘The Game’. The time is 08:30am. The house is the only one with electricity in Bosanska Bojna and it is located 500 meters from the Croatian border. It attracts families to live there, because it is hard for the children with their small legs to travel to the border initially before crossing it.

Some try 'The Game' at night, others wait until it’s morning. Barialy Karimi (32) is sitting in bed with his son Musavar Karimi (8). They have a hard time getting out the door. They usually go out between 8:00-9:00am, but today they don’t have the strength before 11:00am.

Atefeh Mohseni (10) in front of an abandoned house in Bosanska Bojna, where she sleeps with her family and three other families from Afghanistan. Here, families are constantly replacing each other. Some escape through the Croatian border police into the EU, others find another abandoned house to escape from.

The metal factory in Bihać. "Refugees and migrants all carry a story that is unhappy," says Nataša Omeroviš (47), aid coordinator from IOM.

Arpita Gope (30) hums and wiggles with her infant, Splindora (7 months), who is born on the run, while tears run down her cheek.

Atefeh Mohseni (left) is ten years old, but already an adult. "Yesterday we walked 25 kilometers and then we were sent back by the police," says Atefeh in English.

Helinos Gardi (6) from Afghanistan is standing in the center of the village Nea Kavala. She is on her way with her mother to the local Greek Sathis house to feed his dog. In Greece, Helinos and her mother Sughra Gardi (39) have been waiting in a slow asylum process for three years, without much development and without the prospect of being integrated into Greek society.

According to the NGO SolidarityNow, Greece is facing a huge backlog of legal cases, which makes the country in a worse situation than in the acute migration pressure in 2015. Although it wasn’t the final destination for many, 850,000 refugees and migrants arrived in Greece in 2015.

A Question of Proportionality Part of 'No Man's Land' 2021-2023: In Nea Kavala refugee camp, almost 1,100 people live in white containers, which are stacked close together behind a concrete wall. They live just one kilometer from the village Nea Kavala in northern Greece, which houses about 130 people.

While refugees and migrants are waiting to receive documents that will allow them to enter a new EU country, they have imperceptibly become part of the local community.

Nea Kavala is a microcosm of the challenges Greece is currently facing: high unemployment, expensive rents and depopulation of rural areas, while thousands of refugees and migrants are waiting in camps, without contributing to society.

Mahan Safi (right) (3), and his sister Maheda Safi (6), have found a simple toy: on the playground in the village of Nea Kavala, there are thousands of dandelions that turn into small parachutes when you breathe.

Hamid Khanzada (38) gives his son Mustafa money through the bars of the Nea Kavala refugee camp. His son wants to buy a gift for his friend on his birthday.

Sughra Gardi (39) (middle) and Sara Taschik from Afghanistan meet by chance the local Greek Stathis Evstathiadis (63) (right) on the main street of the village of Nea Kavala, one kilometer from the refugee camp. They do not speak the same language, but they greet and use body language to communicate. Occasionally, Sughra and Sara pass by his home, where their children feed his dog.

The Safi family are on their way home to the Nea Kavala refugee camp from the village center, where they spent Sunday afternoon eating late lunch in the town's small park.

Nanna Knudsen (70) is laying in her bedroom, the place where she misses Hans-Wiggo the most. After Hans-Wiggo's death, Nanna and her daughter Pipaluk went into isolation for 16 days, separately, while Nanna’s son, Frederik, was isolated in Spain. “It felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had to put my hand on my stomach, just to know it was there,” says Nanna about the time in isolation.

No one knows who passed the coronavirus to Hans-Wiggo or where it happened. Perhaps he got infected when he was shopping in a warehouse. Maybe he caught the virus from a family member or at the hospital, when he went for an examination before a planned surgery.

A Life Worth Dying For: On 19th March 2020, Hans-Wiggo Knudsen (75) died from coronavirus at Roskilde Hospital. Hans-Wiggo was among the first who died from the virus in Denmark. He leaves behind his wife Nanna Knudsen, daughter Pipaluk Lykke and son Frederik Høegh-Knudsen.

Hans-Wiggo was cremated so that his body could not pass on the infection. This differed from Greenlandic tradition. Greenland is Nanna's country of birth, where Pipaluk and Frederik grew up. Here, there is a strong tradition for gathering around the dead, singing and carrying the coffin to the burial grounds.

After Hans-Wiggo’s death, the family chose that the urn should be lowered into the soil, when Denmark lessened its restrictions on coronavirus. They wished that family and friends would be able to participate, get close to each other and give a proper goodbye. That would be in the spirit of Hans-Wiggo.

Nanna's garden in Næstved.

When the first news of Covid-19 began to spread, the family knew that Hans-Wiggo's lungs were vulnerable, as he already had a rare lung disease, pulmonary fibrosis, which placed him in the high-risk category of Covid-19.

August 1st. Frederik Høegh-Knudsen (40) carries Hans-Wiggo's urn towards Herlufsholm church, with a straight back, hand in hand with his six-year-old son Viggo. Frederik's Spanish wife, Eva Garcia (40), walks with their two daughters Rita (3) and Harriet (8).

Five months after Hans-Wiggo's death on 1st August 2020, Nanna, Pipaluk and Frederik lower the urn into the ground at Herlufsholm Cemetery. Just before the urn reaches the soil, Pipaluk says "stop!". She bends down, kisses the urn and her father one last time.

One at the time, people come up to Hans-Wiggo's final resting place. Nanna receives hugs, and her 73-year-old sister, Anna Thomsen, defies the coronavirus and kisses her on the cheek.

The sky in Greenland.

Before the outbreak of coronavirus, Nanna's finger, where she was wearing her wedding ring, started to hurt. The ring had become too small. For 45 years, the ring has never been removed from her hand. She stopped wearing it and that was a bad sign, she told Hans-Wiggo.

Two months later he died. Hans-Wiggo's favorite quote was "a life worth dying for".

September 28th. In the picture, Nanna says goodbye to her daughter, Pipaluk, after a twelve day long holiday in Greenland, seven months after Hans-Wiggo's death.

Lotte Mirsal (34) by a lake with her daughter and boyfriend. When Lotte was 12, she did competitive trampoline and tumbling. She gained weight and the coach did not select her for the final competing team. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought: “I’m way too fat”. Lotte began to starve herself. It helped her. She was selected for the team. It didn’t make Anorexia less appealing. Lotte remembers being very sad when she was young.

“I’ve gone through various kinds of treatments since I was 12 and I stopped coming at Centre for Eating Disorders when I was 31. I had to try to fight it myself,” says Lotte. Denmark operates with three different levels of treatment of Anorexia.

Anorexia Nervosa: You are afraid to gain weight. The way you see yourself is distorted and you seek to retain control of your weight and emotions. The constant and wide-reaching search for control may cause severe malnutrition, which is potentially fatal.

“Anorexia Nervosa” is the most fatal mental illness among young women in Denmark. Around 75,000 people in Denmark have an eating disorder. 5,000 suffer from Anorexia Nervosa, also known as Anorexia, which often affects girls and women.

The reasons for the illness are many but some symptoms are always the same. Many victims experience anxiety, sorrow, loneliness, low self-esteem and depression. Keeping track of one's weight and over exercising is a way to control and suppress difficult emotions.

All information in this portrait project is based on interviews with the participants, conversations with the staff at various Anorexia treatment institutions and data from The Danish National Association for Eating Disorders and Self-Harm.

”The eating disorder did what I wanted it to do. I got a high GPA and got into medical school. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person. Everything I do, I do a hundred percent. I know that it may sound strange but the eating disorder gave me peace and self-confidence in high school. But it’s a sick way of having control over yourself,” says Rebecca (24).

Today, "Tot" (57) builds bridges, where he is also well respected, with the soldiers of The Frogman Corps, the patrols of The Jaeger Corps and the top decision-making group in the Special Operations Command in Denmark. The special units support the Defense Forces from the Army, the Navy and the Air Force and also travel on independent missions.

When "Tot" talks about his incredibly long and strong career, it is clear to see that all his decisions are made based on the best interests of the community.

The Frogman Corps "Tot" at Special Operations Command: The atmosphere about The Danish Frogman Corps is mythical. Almost divine. This is how "Tot" remembers from before he started his 34-year-long and powerful career with Denmark's elite unit, specializing in being the operators from the water, The Frogman Corps. He was right in his hunch about the tough corps, which has been on numerous missions in Afghanistan, Iraq and in pursuit of evil-minded pirates off the coast of Africa. The will is the one they want to see in those who dare to apply to join The Frogman Corps, and is the one that creates powerful momentum, when it matters, in new tasks, territories and goals.

A Warrior: The potential in The Danish Defense is clearly present - in addition to the exercises, the logistical, the international operative part, the administrative and tactical, there is room to unfold creatively through unity, sport and presence in a lively workplace. The experiences in The Danish Defense are never forgotten, and are often talked about among people, who have served. As well as in The Danish Defense, where the lifestyle as a warrior is a spirit and a calling.

Danish soldiers around their tanks of mortar shells. A cigarette is lit in the group of soldiers, while the rain, as usual, whips down in Oksbøl.

Dynamic Front: In the Oksbøl shooting range, the exercise 'Dynamic Front' was held with countries from the USA, Great Britain, Poland, France, Spain, Canada, Turkey, Greece and, of course, Denmark. The largest artillery exercise in 30 years, on Danish soil, was gathered here. The exercise lasted a week, in which the navy and fighter jets were also involved. The reason why the exercise took place was, among other things, that NATO wanted to practice training in a combined force, in order to optimize its possible attacks, and strengthen coordination between the countries. The exercise was also particularly relevant, as Ukraine makes extensive use of artillery attacks, with support from the West.

The huge shot from an American M142 High Mobility Artillery Rocket-system blasts through Oksbøl's terrain.

In the meeting with "Tot", there is no doubt about the man's years of capacity, experience and calmness - the motivation to keep going is clearly present and completely clear. He has three years left before he has to retire at 60.

What drives the work? To make a difference. Both for the elderly and experienced, and for the youth. Throughout his time, "Tot" has also served with Crown Prince Frederik in Denmark - an inevitable question if you have that, if you are an experienced gentleman from The Frogman Corps.

A Spanish soldier looks back. The eight nations have different areas and posts in the terrain and in the coordination of the artillery exercise.

Young men and women support each other in the process of the task, which is to build a bridge together. The bridge must be able to reach over the lake behind. And the task is only solved when you can drive a small truck, on the wooden bridge, over to the other side.

The marks on the conscripts' shoulders indicate how far they are in their training, as well as which courses they have been trained in. There are three groups: the new, the middle and the oldest.

Education in Rescue at Danish Emergency Management Agency: In Næstved, Denmark live new, intermediate and very experienced conscripts in rescue work under the command of Danish Emergency Management Agency, where you must always be ready and be prepared to be deployed in real situations, where an accident has occurred. After 19.5 working days, you must be ready to be deployed in Denmark. The conscription lasts 9 months. Finally, you are a rescue specialist. The training attracts young people between the ages of 18-30, with the average age being 21-22, according to the training leader and officer, Mickey Michaelsen, who himself did his service at Danish Emergency Management Agency.

Helmer T. Hansen (65), chief physician and head of infirmary on Bornholm, performs a health check on a young officer, so that the soldier can be approved for both national service and international deployment. The officer is approved.

Helmer T. Hansen has himself been deployed 13 times, which has been during the wars in the Gulf, Yugoslavia, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Infirmary on Bornholm: The new infirmary on Bornholm, which opened in August 2022, is staffed by head of infirmary and chief physician Helmer T. Hansen (65), nurse Camilla Marcher (46) and dental hygienist Farnaz Heydari (33). They are a strong team, with Helmer and Farnaz coming to the island and working two days at the start of the week, while Camilla works at the infirmary every day, who also lives and grew up on Bornholm. The task of the infirmary is to help the conscripts, typically with overuse injuries in the knee, ankle or other everyday diseases, as well as carry out health examinations so that the professional soldiers can hopefully be approved for both national service and being deployed internationally.

Young Danish soldiers wearing camouflage and full combat gear stand in front of their Piranha 5 vehicle, with a heavy mortar system they must operate.

Three young conscripts are jointly hammering down poles to connect with a wooden bridge to be installed, located on the other side of a lake next to them.

A young constable trainee is suddenly injured during melee training and visits the infirmary. It is unusual that Helmer and the other two Camilla and Farnaz have time, suddenly, as their time must be spent helping the conscripts and the health examinations, but on this day Helmer supports the young constable trainee with advice on how he can recover quickly his blow to the arm and elbow, and assess that he is back on top after 14 days.

Polish observer soldiers stand up from their hidden observation post in Oksbøl's shooting terrain. 500 soldiers have gathered for Dynamic Front in Oksbøl.