the global reconnaissance organization: time is wasting

the emmanuel vigeland museum in oslo, norway, only opens for four hours a week, on sunday between 12pm and 4pm. today was sunday and i arrived at 1pm after the tram and a walk down streets which do not seem like they lead to a museum, houses and children. the brick building, she tells me i must put these socklike covers over my shoes [what is this place?], that photography is not allowed, and that cell phones must be turned off.

i motion to the small door, 'through here?'

'yes,' she replies with a smile.

i pull the door open, heavy. through, bending, into darkness, one room. i turn around and pull the door shut. turn around.

through the darkness of the one room, i barely see two others against the far wall, whispering soft whispers, all around. unbeliever, is this truly happening naturally? and as i try to absorb, i must accept that it is. soft whispers, all around. believer, one second is ten seconds in this one room, and here within, the walls allow the whispers to live longer than i have _EVER in my life_ heard before. [listen] i have never before, and filled with the newness of this one room i click my tongue to hear a sound live like it could never live outside of these walls. on my left i see the forms, in reddish brown, monotone, on the walls dimly illuminated, but my eyes are still not entirely ready to see through the darkness. truly magical, if ever a place were. the whispers stop, and the others stop moving, and i stop, and there is nothing, and through it all i hear the familiar tone in my head, there always during absolute silence, i imagine it will speak nothings to me during silence until i die. while the walls are absolute. seconds later the whispers make me forget. and finally my eyes are ready, able to see the people on the walls, tangled together, on my left women and children, and a sculpture of birth, and i walk softly around. slowly. moments. and i'm aware that the two others have walked to the door

and i shut my eyes tightly as they open it. and then i'm alone and i open my eyes.

silence and darkness and magic and the smallest walking sound gigantic undying fading and then gone. i continue walking softly around, men and women twisted together on the walls and in two sculptures, and further above the door, highlighted, two skeletons, one upon the other. dimly lit from the floor to the curving ceiling. and i'm alone in this magic room and i am so lucky. so.

i stand with back against the door and look up and do nothing but let my eyes be burned with this. and moments drift by and i'm alone in this magic.

burn

until

i hear voices muffled beyond and i know that others are coming, and soon they do, with voices and laughter and all those things which carve away at the magic. i politely inform one that photography is not permitted here, her scanning each five feet of the wall with a camera shot, the light flashing, the click echoing. some things i believe are too powerful to be photographed, and if ever one, this; this is one which must be experienced _here_, how could a picture _!EVER!_?

as i'm writing this, i'm listening to music that was recorded within the walls, a beautiful and clear voice singing haunting norwegian folk songs, and i'm reminded of the one room earlier today. the memory burned.

[all else is nothing compared: i spent ninety minutes in the morning updating the site, i walked along some trails at the highest point in oslo on a ski mountain near a television tower, desperately trying to find some type of clear view of the city which never really came. a picture can sometimes capture a building or a person well, but never really a spreading view, and never the magic of anything. the walk along the trail was a small taste of what i needed. oslo is what i needed, a place to get farther away, and i'm going farther still. i took the tram down from the mountain and got off at a random stop where it seemed others were getting off; i figured there must be something worthwhile there. the national gallery, but it was closed by that time, i'll see it tomorrow. i walked more to the water, the port of oslo and finally up to an embankment overlooking the port, sitting down and watching, and here i put on the cd for the first time, and as i watched the ships in the water and as the first song played the haunting melody pulled back memories of the one room and my head felt like it would if at the end of the best long movie a character who i'd grown to love (and who other characters in the movie had also loved) died. i sat there for two hours listening and watching. so amazing the way music brings back memories and emotions. _so_. inconsequentially, i lost my bandana somewhere today. i'm glad i came to norway. i'll add that sometimes i think i don't realize how much i walk in a day. at the end of this one, i was very tired. i feel my schedule shifting from night to day; i now wake up at 8am and i'm tired by midnight, with sleep soon after. i wonder how my body will deal with an unsetting sun if i make it that far north.]