I feel like a stranger. A stranger in Norway. Maybe even the world.
I’m not even there.
I’m hovering above the ground, watching everything, but not taking part. Like I’m just energy, floating in the air and seeing, but not being seen.
I don’t make an impact.
The sun disappears and rises without my presence. People live their lives. They continue after my departure, just as they did before my arrival. And I won’t know them anymore. Won’t know what they are doing. Who is moving into my flat, who is walking the paths, who gets hired at work, and who might find some dog shit hidden under the snow when spring comes.
I never once saw the sun on Senja.
That is strange.
I won’t be there when it comes around the mountain for the first time, I won’t get to see the midnight sun, or the snow melting. I haven’t seen how green the place gets. Even though I lived there.
But it’s okay. I will another time, as I am sure to come back there some time.
I still feel like a stranger, but I get greeted with open arms.