Beans, Baguettes, & Boulogne
View Larger Alone except for strangers, I surveyed this Friday sunset from a gray bench, unwilling to fathom the same concreteness of my imminent departure. My Norwegian daydream had become a temporary reality and I wasn’t keen to relinquish him.
You might say I’m reluctant to unclench my sweaty palms from this city I’ve grown to cherish, this beautiful far-away Oslo.
View Larger This dog held onto his human friend’s bag for the few blocks I not-so-covertly stalked him up Karl Johannes Gate. While others marveled at this canine idiosyncrasy, I filed it under “to blog because dogs are awesome.”
Vår Frelsers cemetery: a verdant respite from Oslo sentrum, an invitation to daydream amidst the underground dead.
Street art: broadcasting truths commonly shunned for fear of social ostracization.
Snails of oddest contortions on stem.
One day I was an hour late to greet T home from work. As I crossed the landing laden with roughly a kilo of fresh-picked raspberries, he flashed me an irritatingly knowing smirk.
“It wasn’t exactly a mystery, y’know—my hiking boots were gone.” It was a rare treat to befriend someone with my shoe size.
We made raspberry-filled phyllo cups that night. Raspberry-STUFFED, more accurately.
