Tøyen, ‘13

By now I think you know where I'm going with this. Or maybe you don't. Time and space are just different words for the same thing. Yet, every place is just the same, save for your experience in them. I could be anyone. I want to be everyone, everywhere, all of the time. Or maybe I don't

It's 2013, I've stopped counting the years. They've started blurring, but this is the last one that stands out. If I chose '98 for its youthful wide-eyedness, and '05 for its jaded insignificance, I think '13 would have to be chosen for its significance. The year my dad died. The year of my first born. Those two life changing events (and I'm not using these words lightly here) were interseeded by a personal and interpersonal crisis of sorts, where everything I'd done, and been, in the years prior, came crashing down into the present. If my memory serves me well. But maybe it doesn't.

When these memories are so much closer, perhaps more accurate, that also poses a problem. There are people here I still very much have in my life, and I'm wary of presenting our shared experiences in a way they might contest or be hurt by. It feels like my license to lie just expired. Then again, I was never a good liar. Or maybe I was.

So while my memories are still just photocopies of photocopies of photocopies - I might as well write it the way it works, as a story. Even though it's my story. At least I'll try to not let any auto-biographical accuracy get in the way of it. But maybe I can't.

- Sjur Lyseid