Rainy day has come once again. It’s cold and the streets are wet, trees have no leaves left on their branches. The sky is white, completely covered with clouds and there is no sign of the Sun. Even though it’s cold the wind is not blowing so it’s wonderful for taking a walk. There is so many angles of observing the surroundings. The weathermen say that soon the storms and snow will come, hopefully the winter is coming soon.

The orange light casted by the street lamp is quite dim and at one point it reminds me of an empty and ghostly garage alley, and at another one it reminds me of a warm and scented summer night, the reflection of the street at the roof window. The naked branches give a spooky feeling but yet again it can initiate dreams of the most beautiful Autumn nights, of the two in love, charming girl in her coat and heels in embrace of her loving darling. Even though it is a bit unpleasant to walk the city street at night you can get the feeling like you could walk miles and miles and just watch the trees, sky and city lights around you.

Sometimes it’s strange how I don’t know what to do or think about because there is just so many things and you can not let your dreams take over.

Does a room changes when the light is off?

It was a passive day today, nothing much happened which is fine by me. On the second bus stop I exited the trolley and saw a familiar jacket on the other door. I knew who it was, it was a guy I absolutely love. I don’t love him in the crush-like manner, I just love that guy, a mysterious soul hiding behind the face of the biggest jokester. We acknowledged each other and with a nod showed out greetings to one another, I think non of us was up for a conversation. I was looking through the window at the city lights, bridge, racing cars and the other side of the river. I also looked at a boy, who had his headphones in, just like my friend and I did, and he was looking through the window again. I think he probably noticed that I was looking at him so I drifted my eyes and stick them to the road. Sometimes when I ride, and especially in the bus or trolley, I look at the road and the white lines on the fast passing cement. When I stepped out of the bus I decided to take a walk, it’s a nice autmn-ish evening, without wind or rain. Everything looked so captivating and it seemed like it was screaming ”paint me, photograph me, save me in your tiny mind forever”, so I took my phone out and took some pictures. I climbed up the hill and turned around just to be met with the rest of the city and it’s fuzzy blue and yellow lights. The night is clear and I kept on walking. As the music stopped I was hearing city noises and the sound of my boots was prevailing. I walked my small route and started my way home. I feel like I could walk miles and miles without stopping or saying a word.

When I entered the house it was all dark, all lights are off. I decided not to turn them on. I put my jacket into the closet and took a look at my door. A small stripe of light was coming from the outside, creeping into the darkness. I left my things and turned off the music once again. Does the room around changes when I turn off the lights? And if do, how so? What changes in it and what does it change? Questions were flooding my mind but I didn’t bother to consider answering them. I set in the darkness and silence in my living room. Only light that appeared were two little, blinking blue lamps on my laptop. I took it and started writing. The blinding light that came from my screen was illuminating a few things around me, I just might turn it off again and sit by the window to watch the colorful city lights and think about how millions of faiths are in such a small area, twisting and interlacing, missing and bumping into each other. And how every and each one of us sometimes, no matter how many time we spent near each other or together don’t know the other one’s story. Just like I don’t know my friend’s, and just like my friend and I, no matter how much I wanted ,won’t spend some time together or get closer, because we are not destined to be.


Sometimes, and lately more often, I get sad or melancholically when the conversation is over. I get the feeling usually when someone says goodbye to me first and it happens a lot, because I’m always there for people and I will always listen to what they have to say. When I was little whenever my very first and best friend and I say goodbye to each other everything gets weird, strange, and sad around me, and the feeling I get isn’t pleasant at all. It’s not what it is like now, but I do get sad and melancholy takes over. Sometimes tears threaten to spill but I don’t give them a chance. Very logically I get sadder when a person I love to talk to says goodbye. I know it’s maybe overreacting or over the top, and maybe I am just driving myself into the “magic”, never-ending circle of need for communication but that’s just how I feel and maybe it’s because I feel used or stood up. Please prepare me for your goodbye and don’t ever shoot it out of nowhere.


So much time has passed and I am still in the same spot just like when I first saw you, I made no steps back and no steps forward. It doesn’t make sense anymore, but to me it obviesly does.

Cause I, I’m feeling pretty small,
Sometimes feel like I’m slipping down walls
And every line I ever get a hold it seems to break.

Whenever I see you I feel this and I know that you can chagne that. You can make me smaller and you can make me bigger, but I still don’t depend on you. Whenever I find a reason to end this or to start it and do something, the hold breaks and I slip down walls, from the rooftops, and then it starts all over again. And I have decided so many times to walk a different way back home so I don’t see you, so I can forget about you, but you still appear in front of me. You make sense out of things if you drink but I make sense when I fall in love with you a thousand times, and wonder would it all make sense? You are not aware of any of this and you won’t ever be.

So I just shut my eyes and lose myself in teenage lies

And whenever I run I slip and go down the same long way to the beginning, holds break and I find myselsf again in teenage lies, lying to everyone that I have run away from it, but I am still lost in daydreams, finding myself in your arms, seeing my reflection in your eyes.

How to make things “Koselig”?

A Frog in the Fjord


There is an important concept one needs to understand and embrace when living in Norway: being “koselig”. Most English speakers translate it by “cosy” but that term doesn’t even begin to cover everything that “koselig” can express. This concept is difficult to translate to those who do not live here, but basically anything can (and should) be koselig: a house, a conversation, a dinner, a person. It defines something/someone /an atmosphere that makes you feel a sense of warmth very deep inside in a way that all things should be: simple and comforting. And just for the fun ask a Norwegian what is his/her definition of koselig and you will realise it is not only hard to translate but also hard to explain for them. Then ask what is the difference between “hyggelig” and “koselig” and you might have lit an evening-long discussion. (By the way it seems to me…

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Long Way Down

My way has taken my far away, downwards. I am falling and going long way down for you. It has been going on for so long, with pauses, denials and hopes for near ending but I just can’t seem to take a sharp turn somewhere and finally stop falling from the roofs. I want to take a walk with you on the rooftops and talk about times, watch the skies, laugh and be silent. I want you to take my hand in yours and go somewhere to make memories. I want it to be just like a autmnish afternoon, peacful and orange, colorful, foggy and unpredictable and glamorous like the evening that’s coming. Intriging like the city lights and it’s veins and I want it to rush through mine like a living stream of emotions and expectations. I have gone long way down in a pursuite for you and your green orbs. I have gone long way down just to catch as many of your smiles and laughters as possible and your green braces with perfect white teeth. I have run long miles down just to see your blonde hair with bruinette locks. The way you put your bangs asaide to cover your forehead just above your eyes, and the way you are sitting and revising or reading something whilst everyone are outside, and the fact that you ocasionally need black glasses, make me go downsome and I cannot see the sun anymore-I am swimming in all those little things. I love the way you walk and talk stupid things and the way you are a complete idiot. I want you to make me laugh and warm my hands when I forget my gloves, and I want to see your green eyes glowing like city lights and night skies when you’re laughing. I want to feel the rivers and winds passing this city and I want to talk to you. I want to live it all through when we’re walking together in these streets or just sitting somewehere. It feels like a long way down.