The Nabatean temples of Petra — no wonder they are the world wonder — mountains carved out top to bottom to perfection, Smooth columns and walls around them like naked muscle fibres of geological timelines, And Romans overtaking and adding their own stones on top as usual, And Bedouins nowadays riding donkeys up impossibly steep […]
Dear Dahab, It was 3 am when we met. I wandered through your streets in search of a bed, exhausted from a day of flying and a taxi bargaining shitshow, scared of an unkown place—when your walls asked me “you lost habibi?”, and pointed to the entrance of Rafiki hostel. I was lost indeed, just
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“We need to witness our own limits transgressed, and some life pasturing freely where we never wander” -Thoreau Day 1 “As little as possible”, Silje said. “As little as possible”, I think, eating the last pieces of candy, clumsily taking them out of the bag with frozen fingers barely moving. Only a few minutes more,
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Two guys walk down the terminal, smoothly pushing their trolley bags. They whisper jokes to each other’s ears, a natural cohesion found only in friendships of long years. They laugh cheekily in their own little safe world, sharing inappropriate insights that should be blurred. They pass behind the wall of the café, and now they’re
Liminal Poetry: Portraits from a Terminal Read More »
excerpt from chapter IV. Day 25, Seville, 16.11.2023. I woke up under the clear blue sky as the hot Andalusian sun already heated the cobbled streets of Seville. I had slept on the hostel’s rooftop as there were no more beds available. Sounds of construction work came from down below — that protruding, squeaking and
67 DAYS: SNAPSHOTS FROM ALGARVE TO ANDALUSIA Read More »
The beginning of chapter III. – On the Fisherman’s Trail The beach in front stretched for kilometres. The waves left a long, washed-up line of foam on the sand, slowly evaporating into the air, and under the cliffs, the foam floated in pools of stirred water, circling around the tips of rocks eternally in the
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14th of August, from Bjorndalsbu It was the sunniest day we’ve had on the trail, but now it’s getting unpleasantly windy. I’m still in the living room of the hut. The hut keeper told me that campers have to leave the hut by 6 pm otherwise pay full lodging. He is incredibly annoying and self-righteous,
THE MASSIV TRAIL DIARIES pt. II Read More »
8th of August Where to start? – A sentence I’ve used too many times. Well, maybe to start with the present. It is half past six in the afternoon. I’m sitting at a living room of a hut to which I arrived around 3 pm. Around me, British, American and Norwegian hikers talk about their
THE MASSIV TRAIL DIARIES pt. I Read More »
2nd of August Why did I come here? What is the purpose of this journey? If it is to clear my mind, or to face something, what is there to face, or to clear? Maybe it would be the best to just shut up, be simple, and enjoy the moment without purpose-seeking. It would be
FROM NORWAY: ABOVE LOM Read More »
1st of August Last night I camped by a lake at the outskirts of Oslo, where the metro line meets its last stop and the city meets the edge of Norwegian forests. “Oh fuck” was my first reaction coming out of the metro, seeing and feeling the dark, hollow empty station just before midnight. “It’s a
FROM NORWAY: CAMPING IN OSLO Read More »