I went to Norway last month.

As soon as I stepped into the airport, something in me went quiet.

The cool air brushed my face.

The silence surprised me.

How can an airport be this still?

Announcements came in an unfamiliar language, yet something felt familiar.

Maybe it was the silence.

Maybe the trust we both still have in people,

Maybe it’s the people - the ones who live in quiet respect for Nature.

After spending a week there,
I found answers to many questions I’ve carried with me my whole life.

Why must we always keep our guards up, afraid of being robbed, not of things, but of trust?


Why do we have to compete so fiercely to feel worthy?

Why can’t we trust the system, or the people who run it?

Why does happiness feel so rare?


Why do we forget to slow down , even for those who walk beside us?

And then there’s my favourite part, the one I carry with me.

The sight of families having dinner at 8 p.m., under a warm light in their dining halls, with their toddlers.

I don’t intend to spy on them. But sometimes, I catch a glimpse, and it’s so beautiful.

It’s hard to believe that something so simple could feel so extraordinary

A few pictures - to let you see what words can only touch.