Krakow, no, no, no, no

Krakow, Passing a playground with a prohibition sign on the wire fence: No biking, no football playing, no climbing on the swing, no climbing on the goal, not four kids on the seesaw, not two kids in the swing, not walk around with body bent over, no dogs. One single thing is allowed and recommended: throw trash in the bin.

All are floored.

No one is here.

Hardangervidda, Norway, outside, inside

Hardangervidda, Norway, Mile by mile, a desolate, magnificent and wide landscape. After a whole day's running across the highlands, and my ears still filled up with the sounds of wind and speed, I put up the tent and lay down inside. It's small, cosy and protecting.

Maybe the contrast outside/inside makes me love to lay down on my back, while listening to the sounds of nature from outside, looking at the movements and changes of light of the canvas. And maybe because it's like this we have been laying down for thousands of years. On the ground, in the middle of nature. When the night arrives. It's a good feeling.