Back on the road

We are moving between Tromøya, Kvaloya, Hakoya, between kitchens, cottage houses, rooms, bathrooms, dreams enhanced with the views that passing in front leave us in the places of unpredictable beauty and unique.



It was still spitting in the early afternoon, heavy clouds hung over the mountains, hiding their picks in the unbreakable moist. After few hours, in shining Sun we were hitchhiking in the middle of the crossroad trying to stop the cars that were heading towards the west, more a less till Kvaloya, where we were supposed to have a dinner at our friend place. All the drivers or passengers were eating ice creams, what wasn't really surprising considering fact that the Sun was really hot since one hour. After twentieth ice cream, licking obsessively by the frighten possessor that maybe it it the last time that he can enjoy this coldness and sweetness during this unstable summer. Or maybe that was the reason why, because of the first day of the summer. The time was passing lazily, but we were in a hurry, and there was not a single sign from our apparent drives that we can be picked up. Suddenly the group of youths stopped and proposed the lift. When the driver tried to clean the back sit for us he realized there are tones of chips and wanted to flee but I stopped him with the shout that is perfect unless he drives us a little bit forward, over the bridge. We settled down on the comfy back sit with another passenger, in front the blond young Norwegian farmer with his girlfriend or wife, considering his gold ring on his right forth finger. Bass filled up the interior of our vehicle with the sounds of Norwegian disco music and at that time I realized ow different is the landscape when you can look at it by someones eyes. How all is relative and diverse. Even when Hakoya was far forward from the destination of their ride, they drove us almost into the bonfire, which was our aim that evening. The driver was so excited that he received back his driving license and also so sure that he will lose it again the same day that without a word of doubt he drove all the way like trapping by some ghosts or mare of north.
After this frantic ride we were ready to enjoy the evening in the rays of sun jumping high to catch the one and bouncing on the chair into the rhythm of waving ocean.
And I think I can decide that I will never belong to this place, and that the road is opened and the track is obvious, the lands undiscovered and faith in the heart that one day there will be the sand on which the walls will grow up to the sky with the feeling of certainty.
As far - BON VOYAGE!!!!

There are only breaking points.

All the rest if not incarnated in travel is just slowly passing time into the eternity.

There is no "ALE" curve. There are many points that make all difference and only because of its frequency it matters if the life is boring or not. There are not more any aims because all is aimless. The aims are not needed. What is needed are the points that break and change the all. The periods between are motionless reminds of the images that once flashed as the stars remains in our memories.

It starts mainly by the hit, that splash the wings of your dreams on the watery misery of the truth that comes down on you with the restless breath of death.
Then you have to face with the end that lines the border of your life.
And then you realize that the path is followed by two but only one will be let inside. The pairs that arm by arm walk through all, they have to separate while time has come. There are no singles, not a dot of pot, inside where you vanish with your soul. So they step foot by foot together with the arm in arm, but we have to die alone like the Sun that sinks by night. Even when reflection remains without the change there is time when we will close the doors behind which the shadow dies, and return by our own with no one by one side, the steps with half of noise that disappears at once.

We can pace together but we die alone.