I can not remember having read so well, so varied and so interesting about having little before. Or that we have talked so much about it.
Has it ever been more January than right now? The white winter fog that holds Oslo in a stranglehold, the bars that are closed, and the account that gasps for breath after the electricity bill and December.
This must therefore be a tribute to art, and it is the speech of the ailing accounts that has excited me the most this winter. Oddly enough. One might think that I needed a little distraction from my own deceased buffer account, but no.
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