Fifth Journey Day 38: Pastry Heat, Tongue Quiet

Date: June 15, 2025
Location: Alta, Norway

The rock carvings were quieter than I expected. It wasn't the sound that made it seem real. There were a few voices, the sound of gravel underfoot, and a child crying in the distance. But it was the presence of something otherworldly. They didn't try to get attention. The lines in the stone looked like they had always been there. Almost natural. I had to kneel beside one of the panels to really see the reindeer — it was so faint, like something that has been almost completely erased by time, or gently remembered.

The path curved smoothly along the shore, following the edge of the fjord. The water was a dark gray, moving but not noisy. I found myself walking more slowly than usual. I'm not tired. I'm just aware of the effort not to miss things. There was a moment when a single feather was on a puddle. It didn't float. It remained motionless, almost as if it had chosen to rest.

I didn't sketch. I kept my hands in my coat pockets. There are days when I feel like I need to record, respond, and shape things. Today, I felt the opposite. It was as if the landscape itself was enough, and I was just another person passing through. It's like the carvings that were there before. Someone crouches to make a mark. Then stand up and keep going.

Later, I bought a warm pastry from a small bakery beside the bus stop. The woman behind the counter smiled in a quiet way, as if we both understood that we didn't need to say much. The pastry was soft with cinnamon, and it was just sweet enough.

Tonight, I feel a mix of calm and discomfort. It's not sadness, but rather the feeling of being in a place that doesn't hurry to reveal itself. This lets you decide whether to come closer.

I think I will.