This is a text on blogging. And ice. And foxes. There are about 5 million of us, and in the vast expance of the planet Tellus, we count for next to nothing. Not to mention the not so vast expance of a slice of something called Europe. Well, once in a while they notice us. That's every time we say "no" to an offer to join the EU. The rest of the time we spend, rather unsuccessfully, trying to get Europa to notice us. All Arctic Foxes feel an obligation to contribute to the efforts of this noble cause, even if most foxes have deemed it a futile task. But I am not so sure. We may have to run with the wolf. But that's okay. We like the wolf. Especially the Portuguese wolf. We used to do that. When we were Central-Europeans.
Suddenly it happened. The glaciers started to retract, leaving the would-be Norwegians bewildered, confused, even panic-stricken. At this crucial moment the idiot of all times, we don't know his name, we don't know where he lived, we don't know what he had for breakfast that day, probably ice-cubes, this man screamed the words of doom:
"Follow the ice!"
And here we are.
This will explain the Norwegian people's urge to travel. Preferably southwards. There are inner journeys. Journeys of the mind. And there are physical travels. Hopefully, with the cleverness of the fox, I will be able to deal with both in my writings on these pages. I want to run.
With the wolf.
(Arctic Fox JAN 2011)
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