Gaze

Gaze

It’s sommar. Custom doctor sommar. Heitebølgja has jaga most of what can crawl and go to the beach. Ho finds himself in a small space right next to a family with two children who mostly stayed in the lake. A book, a magazine, a soft beach mattress and an MP3 in the island. Ho is ready to shut the verda out and let the sun bake itself brown and soft and tough as heimelaga caramel on a hot pan. Must smile for himself from the absurd saman equation, but that’s how ho will feel.

It teases a little time before ho host it deliberately. The fact that her husband was looking for the youngsters behind his sunglasses also encompasss sweeping across his body. He’s handsome, well-built and dark in his hair, but still! The desire to disappear from the world is so strong that he can’t mobilize irritation over his shame. Ho turns up the sound on the music a couple of notches and tries to concentrate on the book.

But it’s too late. His gaze follows Ho into “Kafka on the Beach,” and suggests that the sentences host fewer and fewer before ho has to be squested to confirm that his auga is there. “Lucky that my sunglasses are so dark,” he thinks. Is it possible to become a choir weak? The last ho treng no is a man’s moment that finds its way into ho. Hasn’t the painstaking doctor built up att after everything was hurting? But here lie ho, and look loving with the gaze of a wild framand man with…