For now I only want to focus on this: the trip was great, we had a lot of fun and [[Oslo]] in particular was poetic. The city has it's social problems and it's not exactly beautiful but for me, [[Norvegian]]s are semi mythological beings, some of them extremely beautiful, the language is magical, the temperature of the air was just right, and some viewpoints, like the cemetary at [[Old Aker Church]] well felt like [[Skellige]] in [[The Witcher 3 - Wild Hunt (2015)]]. I've written elsewhere how this game has influenced how I feel in real life in many ways but this particular feeling is probably tied to pacing. In Skellige, you spend a lot of time alone, with slow ambient music that could just as well be [[Sibelius]] or [[Grieg]] , rugged landscape and your thoughts are directed far. You think about what Geralt has lived through so far, you think about Ciri, you revisit (or repair) your long and tumultuous relationship with Yennefer and time slows down before a final, momentuous battle against greater powers who themselves are subject to a cosmic phenomenon. Okay I got carried away a bit. But Norway has been very vaguely on my todo list since my late teenage years, where I formed plans with [[Vati]] to go there together, fully aware that he'd never move from [[Marktl]] again. Everytime [[Grieg]] played, we were thinking about it. And then the nordics, their mythology, their music was present at very sad moments in my life, especially Sibelius who for me sounds like [[Theodor Kittelsen]]'s paintings look, became the soundtrack of my grandfather's funeral (Violin Concert), my aunt's death (First Symphony) and my father's death (The Wood Nymph) That cemetery, with an Old church on one side and view on the city on the other, a chilly 20 degrees, ship horns resounding from the harbour, that was a moment of profound awe, das Erhabene, the word that makes me proud to be a german native speaker. Both A and me where ready for that moment, she went on to seek it at [[Edward Munch]]s grave, i found it on a bench in that cemetary. But even though it was great throughout and had everything from the sublime, to new discoveries, to coffee hipsterness, to seeing friends, arts and beauty - I did not feel compelled to write anything. I was ill, sure, but even afterwards, I just don's have much to say. Was it because I wasn't alone? Or wasn't it spectacular enough? Or was it too familiar? I organized most things, and A let me do it so I know it wasn't the fact that I had to follow another mind's interests. In truth, the same happened in Amsterdam during my trip in June. I guess when you travel with somebody familiar you just concentrate on them, you don't seek extraordinary feelings. They still happened in both cases though. Thinking about this now, I really do thing that life should be an equilibrium of solitude and company. None of them forced, but just tasted to their fullest potential. If you're alone, you are different, different thoughts. I happen to like them and so I should just put myself into more situations where I am with them. Not the obsessive and scary thoughts at home, the doubts and fear about the future, the regrets for things that didn't happen, thoughts directed at new and present things. These thoughts are always enthusiastic, full of hope, full of curiosity and make my mind wander. And in company you find comfort, you're not alone, you can hug or kiss or play games, you can reminisce or dream about a common future.