ishavskatedralen
Walked over the bridge this afternoon to the Arctic Cathedral. It's a white triangle on the other side of the water, the thing on every postcard, and from my window it looks like a folded sheet of paper.
The door was locked, rehearsal for a concert tonight. I stood outside and listened to a choir doing something in Norwegian, slow, and watched the big glass window at the end go from blue to black. Walking back over the bridge the wind took my hat into the sound. Fifty kroner from a petrol station, so not a tragedy.
A letter from Ragnhild today, eight pages, handwriting like barbed wire. Two of them are about the title. Six are about my semicolons, which she says are "English cowardice." She's right about four of them.
Knock this morning at 11:41. I wasn't at the door this time. I was in the shower and heard it through the wall.
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