Le pouvoir d’un an.

The Scots Man Resto Pub, in downtown Oslo. It's all about the bagpipes, and plaid!

The power of one year. A concept hanging loosely in the deep pools of my bizarre musings, but never duly contained, until it was casually brought up by Faye in one of our endless segue-filled conversations. It is when one looks back to all that has happened in the past year, somewhat similar to the melodramatic recollection one does every year-end, but this one you do every turn of an era after era, within the perimeter of a year.

So, looking back past the dozen months, a lot of outstanding events happened. And when I say a lot, I meant mind-blowing effin’ lot. People who come and go. Things that were lost and found. Things that were lost. Things that were acquired. Things that I thought I lost, but apparently were just there. Places visited. Places that were no longer visited. Same game, different players, and the rules somehow changed a wee bit.

The power of a year’s worth of events that forced one’s holistic equilibrium to be auto-calibrated, over and over. It’s an emotional evolution, also referred to as wisdom.


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