Òyì nke e mepụtara

The Lysefjord lay motionless below. Dark. Deep. So still at this hour... it felt as if the water had forgotten how to move. August was dying slowly. And beautifully. Only those who have lived well... die this way. The old man sat on a rock, at the edge of the cliff, and looked down. Not w…

The Lysefjord lay motionless below. Dark. Deep. So still at this hour... it felt as if the water had forgotten how to move. August was dying slowly. And beautifully. Only those who have lived well... die this way. The old man sat on a rock, at the edge of the cliff, and looked down. Not with longing. He just looked. The way you look at something you know by heart... and still can't get enough of. He had known the fjord since childhood. No... even before that.