Through the Norwegian Air
sval [sva:l], Norwegian: refreshing, pleasantly cool, soothing
Breathing is the most natural and most necessary act to ever think of. It is the first thing we do when we come to this world and the last thing we do when we leave it. Every living thing in this world starts and ends its life with a breath. When we stop breathing, we cease to exist. And yet, we only think about it sometimes. We also need to be made aware that breathing is an art in and of itself.
Although delicate and elusive, breathing can take different forms, including unique shapes, hues, and distinct sounds. Breathing has the whole world inside and around it. The very idea of it could entrap us or make us unconfined, and that depends on us, our ability to see, and our willingness to understand.
Silence and space—they are both the loving siblings of breathing.
The Norwegian air is still. It wants you to make that first move. It would never bother you or demand anything from you. It is there, waiting for something that may or may not happen—an evanescent dream, the almost unbearable beauty of bright vastness.
The shapes the air can take are soft and tender but also formidable. They remind us that nature is unconquerable and needs to be respected. Whatever we meet on our journey, whatever we see, it was there long before us, and it will remain long after all the steps we took on our path are nothing but a memory. Every emotion, every story, every human tragedy that unfolds in this ocean of light and stillness will be forgotten one day.
The Norwegian landscape has no tangible boundaries and is not limited to specific locations. It has its rhythm, its heartbeat. Wherever we find ourselves, there we are; in the north or south, the silent space is equally welcoming. It invites us to take comfort in its soothing stillness, the quiet reflection over everything that is and has been going on in our heads. This is the space where we can take our time and rest.
And so, the Norwegian air is eternally intertwined with the landscape, creating new worlds, worlds of the unknown.
The road unfolds before us, promising relief from the world's noise. It depends only on us which direction we take. The air is moving, and the colourful objects and motives among the bright stillness are our signposts. We become one with the scenery when we immerse ourselves in it. We may or may not find some answers there; something may or may not wait for us at the end of the road. Or there may be no end at all—only the infinite space, inviting but also reserved. It may not be willing to share all its secrets with us.
The dawn breaks over the horizon, unveiling the mountain peaks, clearing the sight to welcome a new day. The world is young. There is no yesterday, no tomorrow. If there was ever any loss, sorrow, or tear shed to no avail, it is all gone and forgotten now. All that is left, all that was and ever will be, is the depth and vastness of space—still, unswayed, sval.
Text by Z.D. Wittner
