Tempus fugit

Time is a curious thing. One can never quite comprehend what it is that makes it tick. However one thing is clear; when we enjoy ourselves, in the sense of mastering a skill, time moves shiftily; when we want time to move forwards, it appear it turns ever so slowly, bordering on turning the other way. No matter, time is what time is; a concept created by man.

Time is not a concept, it is an idea. An idea created my man for their comprehension. What else could we have called it when naming the time of day? The rotation of the Earth around the sun? When a person ask what's the time, or rotation i suppose in this case? "Oh the rotation is at 30 degrees" when the time is nine in the morning or evening. Then I suppose how would we distinguish between sunrise and sunset? Would we then use concave or convex?

These questions facinates me, mainly due to the surrealistic fascination with how our customs came about. It's a life long quest for some, that is to say their mission in life, to seack out ancient civilisations and learn their knowhow and development. Many are anthropologists some arkeologists or even palaeontologists, and then there are the average historian who collect knowledge from what was the result of our conquests and written words. Many are those who spend their time solving this question of evolution and human progression, but even more look to the future to see the further progression of our species. However most are those who live in the present oblivious to the know-how of past, present and future development of civilisation.

My belifs are that natrual selection had an important part in the progression of our species. However I still don't understand why we have difficult names on some things whilst on others we have easy short names to remember. Like time.

Heave away!

Finally I can say this place in the frosty outskirts of Bergen may, by some recallection, be compared to a home of mine. Though only remotly compared. I do enjoy this place, and there is never a day where I dispise someone, although there are those who are friends of mine that are crapy coworkers, but ok otherwise. I suppose my later promorion and the relive that the slackers are done soon, have come over us. But it's much more than that the people here are conected and we have conected. The mood is great. So I thrive obiously, and yet I miss my cosy flat in the capital. For not to say my friend there. Even so this place here, can be claimed as a home for another 5 mounths^^

dining dream

I can tell that I'm home for two reasons, the food have actual taste and it's original colour.

Uppertonity

Now that change isn't to show her face in location
she has perhaps granted me a little peak of what can be done for change's sake
uppertunity calls whether I found her way or not
now she calls for vengance on waste and departure
entangeling every part that touch her skin
her vengance is as sweet as onions in the sun
now lets see if waiting suits the traitors

It flew, for now

Well then, I'm still in Bergen. What to do but to accept and find an alternate solution. 

They say change is never good, but an necessity, then I want to ask those if they ever encountered the way of the world where the change never happen and you're left with what was. That my friends are just as not good.

Left to be in Bergen, though in the case where the rotation of things doesn't occur, the act of suprise in that place may continue the cycle. 

Vel hjemme

Vel hjemme i det snøkledde hjem. Ønsket velkommen av en meget glad vrengt polvått. Mørket lå fremdeles som en svøpe om barndomshjemmet da den togreisende sto på trammen med en trillekoffert, en bag og ei veske med sivile eiendeler. Alt det som hører her til. I hennes formete sinn gikk det automatisk å sette på ei kanne te. Rydde vekk bagasjen og legge gavene under treet.

Vel hjemme i det snøkledde hjem sukket denne togreisende godt til skomringen, og lente seg tilbake for å lese post og brev som var tilkommet hennes hjem i hennes fravær. Vel hjemme på sin rette plass for sesongen.

Changes

So I grew tired of the cherry green. it's my favourite colour allright but one can grow tired of that too. Besides life's a changing. A year ago my worry was can i manage till Christmas, today my worry is do I get home for Christmas. But I have always said I would move after school was done, I just never thought I would miss people the way I do. You see I've never been one for missing people, I've always thought that when you meet people anew you pick up where you left off and you'll have alot more to speek of. Keeping the smile and positive aditude, WAIT... i'm not that cheery... But in truths it's how it's been, I may miss someone special but a friend is to me there nomater how far spread across the globe you happen to be. Nah friendship ought to last all year round, all one have to do is pick up the phone or go online. It's easy these days^^ Still I must admit louds of people I miss this time around... Funny how things change, huh?

Moon lift for a cycle

The proud sea is about to claim it's cargo from safe bays and too sea. Soon it will drag all too familiar faces north, along the Norwegian cost. And they'll part from their familiarities for a full face of the Moon. Tears will flow as a withness of the hollow and sorrow in her heart. But the ever present smile in her kiss and warmth in her laughter can testify too the joyious return of the cargo. Had it not been for the sadness in her eyes, one would imagine the sea was a familiar of her kin. Lullbyes can be heard like a sirens call in the chilled night time. In the blue face of the moon. On the old tales of sailers lost to a shipwrecks, where of tidious effort one sailar has scrambled a shore, the wispers goes this is the time where the oceans wrath is unleached and her wrath will drag you under and leave you beneath the oceanwaves to bath in the oceans tears for eternity. If a sirens call is caught to a sailers ear, he can be safe assured the sea is intend to ferry him safe across the wrath unleached. Leaving him shealtered from the crizcore and ten.

She weeps now. Her kiss is left half seperated with a curve in the creek of her rosy cheek. Her forehead is crowned with a wary frown over her icyblue. They seem to scan a ocean far at sea. Her vision repreeve her from her worries. Slowly she turns and see her old friends gathering around her. Those abandoned by her. No montain seperate them now, the warmth she radiates can comfurt any lost soul, yet the ace in her heart is felt even in the radiance cause the empathy spreads with each heartfelt act. Rejoined in a hug with others left at land, she is half healed. Still an half yearn for the one roaming the north coast. Soon she says, soon across the mercy of the goddess herself her half wil rejoin her when the moon is reborn. Follow the nightly sky and hope can be read she wispers to the wind.

Oh yes!!

Guess what!?

I'm home again. and it is wonderful. Free for a whole day! tomorrow that is, just got in with a plain from Bergen and am home enjoying the long missed birthday cake( my birthday was two weeks ago and i haven't gotten cake untill now!) [mop!] Anyhow home now and my parents leaves tomorrow morning. Sad since I have infact missed them, so little time to refresh. but it opens up a window to celebrate the day that passed unnoticed. Though my darling won't attend:/


But lawful faithful friends will. Therefore Oslo is great!

Dara -ﻃﺎﺭ

Well the ship is about to set sail again. She shall soar on the wind with white sails so large and fair the sun will bath a pleasant shade beneath. The winds may take her far or near, so it always have been. She leaves to wander some foreign territory, whilst those left behind are spoken to ever so seldom. Now the mother sea sends her conquests out with a wave, leaving her stranded on the shore. Her footing fast and uneven, unfamiliar but now her steadfast friends sails the seas leaving her stranded ashore to see them fade into the distance. Still the feeling takes some getting used to, but as they sail away on the horizon the doves can be seen from far across, carrying the words she so desperately crave.