I had not thought a lot about the consequences of living in a small city, in a small country with a small population before I moved to Bergen. None of that entered my mind. What kept me up at night was the possibility of getting trapped there in winter. That the airport would be closed... Continue Reading →
Home is where my pasta machine is
by Janice Nigro A plane is that modern vehicle of irony, speeding you through the air at times to areas of the Earth that might still be in the stone age. Or at least into another apparent universe where we don’t understand the language, we don’t look like anyone else, and we don't have the... Continue Reading →