Other Senses

Dear Emke,

The sun shines and Trosvikstranda feels quite warm despite an actual drop in temperature. Compared to the other days, the area seems buzzing with life and not that forgotten.

Trosvikstranda has become a part of your daily routine – like drinking a cup of tea in the morning. Today you notice how your body recognizes the geography of the place when walking the 1000 steps. Due to your longing for knowing the place from other angles you open your senses: smell, touch and taste and end up with these impressions:


Hard unsteady // car oil // Sundays

Organically soft // something you might eat // sun rays

Soft hollow // old lake water // cold mud

Black hard // autumn death // organic mouth

Hard long // exhaust hug // no taste

and you’re back

You write not under fear on the blue wall with your index finger and have the urge to write a lot more in visible ink but you don’t have a pen. Instead you sit down by the water in front of the little yellow building (no longer?) worthy of preservation. 

Although you have decided to use your senses of smell, taste and touch, you cannot stop looking at the stones that are lying here. They look like conglomerates with seaweed growing on them but when you touch them you are surprised. The seaweed is small, pieces of metal curled up like permanent hair from the 80’s. You take another look at the place and realize that the stones are residues from the past, held together by a brown compact mass of unknown origin. Porous metal and glass are peeking out into the presence. 

You try to break a ‘stone’ to do an archeological study of what has been, but they are too hard… you need some tools that you don’t have yet.

The small boat from yesterday has gone. You don’t know who is responsible but you sit down next to the blue and green raft. You place your feet on the raft and feel the breath of Glomma as it moves past you and Trosvikstranda. You breathe in and out together with the river as time goes by.

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