I’m pretty good at handling the mountain plateau. But today it was different. After having a sublime vaffel med rømme at Haukeliseter, and realizing that I had to leave already, I got rebellious, as I got jealous of the workers there who got to stay. “Why do I allow Norway to torture me like this?”, I asked myself. I wait a whole year to return here. When it gets really bad, I cruise up to Oslo for a weekend, or fly to Tromsø in the arctic. I’m obsessed with Norway. I have a full time job only so that I can afford Norway. I always want to come back every year. It’s been now nine years in a row that I return. I’m in love with Norway. I’m her slave. I behave like her mistress. I want to say “no” to Norway, but I can’t. Every year I ask her humbly to allow me to enter her. To penetrate her. I’m very virile and potent for Norway. Full of energy. In fact, if I were the Norwegian government I would use me. I would ask me to divine for new oil, or diamonds, or anything, really. For, I’m convinced that Norway’s magnetic fields intersect with mine at exquisite points. But Norway won’t allow me to say “no” to her, because she always says “yes” to me, every time, before time. What do I do? By the time I got to Gaustatoppen, a special thought, away from Norway interceded. It interfered with my de-negations and desires. This thought was very powerful. It hit me hard. Very hard. It took my breath away. And I lost it. I lost it….


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