Kongsvinger | 3 degrees | cloudy
back at the Sentralstasjon
hot coffee in hand
all about are padded and muffled
grey and black
matt and flat
gloves and hats + hiking boots
the train travels smoothly
out of the city
through spindly woodlands
sparse and white with thin crisp snow
at Kongsvinger station – much smaller
than it’s google photograph –
cold winds dither round its 6 bus stops
bus driver asks where i’m going
and he drops me at the door !
the door is open and here is Astrid
welcoming and smiling
here’s the studio, and this is my story…
here’s the bathroom
this is your room – you can get a heater
there’s the kitchen and help yourself,
enjoy, be creative !
meet the shadowy boy from Taiwan
smiling sweetly and with halting english
he is friendly but moves quietly
from room to room to be alone
and meet the tired looking girl just back from
Oslo – buying canvas
she’s from Ottowa and a painter
in a Munch like manner
she seeks wintery residencies
in places just like home
to make a start I find an empty place
at the long table in the big windowed studio
it is warm and the heating blows noisily
in the background
am on Wi Fi and connect again
with the world
I make a plan
make a list – stuff to finish off
stuff to begin – stuff to think about
alone in the house, in the dark,
near dense forests and deep lakes
it’s thrilling and strange
I can see myself and the glow of a small lamp
reflected in the window
left it rather late but
I cook an omelette in a pan
something smells horrible
it’s the smoking pan
with centuries of ancient acrid Elk fat
(I imagine – it is late after all!)
emanating from it’s base
I cook the omelette and feel
quite ill
the acrid smell becomes a taste
that lingers on until the next day
