Her heart was beating fast as she swiped the card. It was a considerable amount. The dark-blue velvet box was being wrapped in carefully with silver gift paper. The movement of her fingers was flexible and gentle. The woman in the jewellery shop knew how to treat items of this kind.
Continue reading “A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever”
I’m on the flight heading back to Norway after spending six days in China. A break from the routines. I call it “runaway”. The phrase is certainly used with a metaphoric sense as I don’t have a good cause to justify the expression.
Continue reading “Run away”
When I entered “Kaffekoppen” (The coffee cup), a vintage cafe located in Stockholm’s Old Town, it was crowded. The waitress said if I didn’t mind going down stairs, there were plenty of seats available there. Of course, I didn’t mind. Continue reading “Midnight Wandering”
Strangely, or should I rather say coincidently? Many of my previous posts were written in cafes. Cafes of different styles. Vintage cafes with an old-fashioned charm, stylish ones with prime focus on minimalism, family-run cafes with a homely atmosphere, and exotic taverns with beautiful sea views, located either on a Greek or Gran Canaria island.
Continue reading “More than a cup of coffee”
After nearly an hour’s walk, I finally got myself a cup of tea at a cafe built in a traditional Norwegian style. It’s a favourite spot for skiing enthusiasts, who usually come in for a cup of coffee and homemade soup after a couple of hours’ cross-country skiing.
Continue reading “The cafe in the mountain”
The wind was howling in the streets. The winter sun didn’t provide much warmth. Wrapped in layers of clothes, I could feel the wind penetrating my winter coat and wool sweater. The weather forecast set on my phone showed minus twelve with strong southwest wind.
I tried to push the door open, it was locked. I knocked on the door, no one answered. The cafe was closed. I had been longing to cuddle up on that Baroque style sofa covered with velvet in purple. I had been longing to get myself lost in some passing, incoherent thoughts, smelling freshly brewed Americano and cinnamon buns and hearing some nice pieces of Jazz. I had been longing to feel the charm of Australian accent.
Continue reading “The cafe was closed”