[center][h2][color=FFA319]Jørn Hansen[/color][/h2]

[img]http://i62.tinypic.com/abrv4z.jpg[/img]
[i]“The human spirit needs places where nature has not been rearranged by the hand of man.”[/i][/center]

[b][color=FFA319]Name:[/color][/b]
Jørn Hansen

[b][color=FFA319]Nickname:[/color][/b]
Birdman

[b][color=FFA319]Age:[/color][/b]
31

[b][color=FFA319]Date of Birth:[/color][/b]
April 29

[b][color=FFA319]Gender:[/color][/b]
Male

[b][color=FFA319]Sexuality:[/color][/b]
Heterosexual

[b][color=FFA319]Occupation:[/color][/b]
Wildlife Cameraman

[b][color=FFA319]Likes:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*]Wildlife (birds and amphibians in particular)
[*]The coast
[*]Rain
[*]Old architecture
[*]Acoustic Music
[*]Cooking
[/list]

[b][color=FFA319]Dislikes:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*]Loud people: yelling, loud parties...
[*]Violence
[*]Action movies
[*]Sports
[*]Hot weather
[*]Seafood (except for shrimp)
[/list]

[b][color=FFA319]Fears:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*]Fire
[*]Traffic
[*]Falling off of a considerable height
[*]Losing his loved ones
[/list]

[b][color=FFA319]Hobbies:[/color][/b]
[list]
[*]Photography
[*]Playing the (bass)guitar
[*]Hiking
[/list]

[b][color=FFA319]Personality:[/color][/b]
Adventurous and restless at heart, Jørn loves going outdoors and loves experimenting, be it with photography or be it with food. Despite his venturous nature, he does get homesick easily.
Jørn is a man of few words; he rather speaks through actions than through words. He cares deeply for those close to him and occasionally shows this through small sings of affection such as doing chores for them, or randomly buying little gifts for them, or organizing intimate dinners. Although he is always there for his family and friends, he tends to bottle up his own emotions. Instead he is left fretting about what is troubling him for days.
Jørn is also a bit of a perfectionist; he wants certain things (photographs, dishes, his bed) to be just right. When they aren’t exactly the way he wants them to be he can get a bit fed up with himself for not getting them flawless.

[b][color=FFA319]Place of Origin:[/color][/b]
Jørn was born in Ebeltoft, in the center of Denmark. He currently lives in Copenhagen, where the headquarters of the magazine he works for is located.

[b][color=FFA319]History:[/color][/b]
Jørn was born as an only child to two loving parents. His dad was away from home most of the time, running a hotel, while his mom stayed home to take care of the household and care for her child. Growing up in one of the greener parts of Denmark, Jørn often could be found outside, either playing or, when his mom wasn’t paying attention, exploring his surroundings.

All in all, the first few years of his life were pretty peaceful. This changed however when his dad found out his mom had started seeing another man. In the time that followed, the two were frequently fighting. Although Jørn's father stayed relatively calm, it was mostly his mother that raised her shrill voice, trying to defend herself, blaming her husband for always being somewhere else, for not being there for them, for only thinking about himself.
It was in these moments, that Jørn's wanderlust started to grow even more, leading him outside, towards the shore, as far away from home as possible. Away from the yelling, the accusations, the grudge. The only voices here were the raspy breath of the wind, and the soft calling of the gulls and terns.
In the beginning the fighting couple didn't even notice their child would leave the house; they were too busy noticing the flaws in each other.

Even after his parents eventually parted, his mom leaving Jørn and his father, unable to continue living together with the man, Jørn would often return to the place. It was in nature that he had found his peace of mind. Slowly he grew accustomed to the landscape, and he found himself interested in the animals roaming the area.
With Jørn's mother gone, his father decided to quit his job and find a new one that allowed him to spend more time with his son. Over time, their bond grew, and Jørn showed where he had been hiding during rougher moments. His dad was impressed; both by the beautiful scenery and by the knowledge the young boy had gained about the wildlife.

Although Jørn did pretty well in secondary school, he did not want to devote himself to studying an ordinary subject or profession. Instead, he enrolled for the highly praised European Film College, located in his hometown. Here he learned the tricks of the trade, learning about lighting, perspective, framing... It was also here that he met his current girlfriend Stine, a fellow student who had a passion for filming, albeit that her field of interest differed from his; while Jørn focused on making documentaries, Stine wanted to make short drama films her expertise.

Very quickly after graduating Jørn, together with some other graduates, got asked to work on a documentary for which they had to travel across the globe for a few years. Although Jørn had a load of fun filming -- becoming acquainted with subjects he had never looked into before, and going sightseeing in between shots -- he also missed his homeland, his father and girlfriend.
After five years of intensive labor the crew was done filming and Jørn arrived back in Denmark with an intense feeling of satisfaction; both because he felt he had done some great work, but also because he could finally set foot on familiar ground again.
When he reunited with Stine he promised her he wouldn’t be away again for so long. Not long after this the two decided to move in together. They didn’t reside in this apartment for long however, because soon his father had found the perfect job for him. A connection of his worked for a national nature magazine which was still looking for a cameraman. Although it would be stills that Jørn would be shooting rather than moving frames, and even though it required him to move to Copenhagen, he grabbed the opportunity with both hands.

Jørn now lives together with Stine in Copenhagen, and he still works for the magazine. His main job is to serve as a wildlife cameraman, but sometimes the editors of the magazine allow him to add in a bit of commentary to the articles.
Although his life has been very rosy for the past two years, lately he has been having strange visions. He explains this is as due to lack of sleep.

[b][color=FFA319]Extra:[/color][/b]
Jørn has a mild form of anxiety. He often has doom scenarios pop up in his mind, but this does not affect him too much; it only makes him feel a bit uneasy. He also worries about small things, and has trouble falling asleep.

A song which fits him quite well: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPE1A-O7t4I]Mark Knopfler – Get Lucky[/url]

[hr]
[hider=Posts written for this character]
[hider=1]

[center][color=FFA319]Jørn Hansen – Skagen, Denmark – 3:05pm[/color][/center]
[hr]
A cutting wind blew across the planes of northern Denmark, rustling the marram grass that covered most of the land. Jørn looked out over the sea, watching the waves as they rolled over one another. His hands were tucked away deep inside the pockets of his coat. It was a chilly, bleak day in the beginning of April, which was not unusual for this time of the year. Although the temperature here didn’t differ much from what he was used to, the rough sea climate made it all feel much colder.

Jørn had come to Skagen to map out the migrating birds, which were traveling from the most northern tip of Denmark to Sweden. He and the rest of the crew had arrived the day before; It was at least five hours driving from Copenhagen and they all wanted to make sure everything was prepared well. At sunrise this morning, everyone was already up, not wanting to miss a glimpse of any of the traveling species. The early rise had paid off: Jørn had managed to get some excellent shots of several breeds of geese and some great predatory birds.

A cold breeze blew through the man’s ruffled, dark hair and made its way down, slipping down his scarf. The sensation of the cold air touching his bare skin caused shivers down his entire body, awakening him from his trance of staring into the great grey-blue before him. Jørn tried to shake off the cold, making small jumps on his spot, stamping around, trying to get his blood flowing.
Having enough material, the crew had finished photographing for today but Jørn had wanted to enjoy the scene for a bit longer. However, standing still like this didn’t make viewing exactly enjoyable. He wondered whether he should move further out, walking along the shore, or whether he should call it a day and head back to the cabin they had rented.

Before he could make a decision he then noticed a figure from the corner of his eye. Turning around, a person stood before him he could not remember to have seen before, yet seemed strangely familiar to him. Moreover, they were anything but dressed for this weather.
In a sort of reflex, Jørn took a step forward, but stopped himself from taking another. Maybe this was just some hallucination, like he had been having for the past few weeks. Now hallucinations were not new to Jørn -- he sometimes had longer periods of time when he had trouble falling asleep, and right before he would fall asleep he would often see vague images of floating objects or lights -- but these recent ones were different. Not only were they more vivid and did they occur when Jørn was wide awake, but they also didn’t restrict to visions, instead expanding to his other senses.

The Danish man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost hoping that if he would open his eyes again, the other person would have vanished into thin air. But they didn’t; when he opened his eyes once more they were still there. Jørn didn’t know whether to conclude it meant the person was really there, or that he was going insane. Either way he could only ask the most sensible question that came to mind.

[color=FFA319]“Hey,”[/color] he said hesitating, and paused for a moment. [color=FFA319]“Aren’t you cold?”[/color]
[/hider]
[hider=2]

[center][color=FFA319]Jørn[/color] and [color=1975FF]Steven[/color][/center]
[hr]

A weird feeling crept over Jørn as he heard the foreigner’s voice echoing over the dunes. They showed similar traits: dark, seemingly uncontrolled hair, an unshaven jaw and chin, a tall built. Looking down he noticed the soft shadow which the man cast over the sand. This could not be a lucid dream anymore, Jørn concluded, those were never this realistic and detailed; the person in front of him had to be there, standing only a few meters away from him.

[color=FFA319]“Skagen, the most northern tip of Denmark,”[/color] Jørn answered almost mechanically as he slowly started to approach. [color=FFA319]“You’re from… Australia, right?”[/color] he stated more than asking it, noting the other man’s accent.

As he drew closer, a warmer draft greeted him together with the scent of food. It took him a moment to adjust his eyes as the sky grew dark and daylight replaced itself by streetlights. He looked around the damp street, remaining surprisingly calm although the scene before his eyes had just changed dramatically in the blink of an eye.

Steven looked around his once again familiar surroundings; he was back in the same rainy Sydney street he’d left a minute ago. The other man was still there, looking remarkably calm for someone who’d just found themselves halfway around the world from where they should be. [color=1975FF]“Right, and this is Sydney,”[/color] he said, indicating the street with a wave of his hand.

Steve had been having the flashes for the past week, ever since the dreams started, but this was something else - much longer and intense. [color=1975FF]“So, million dollar question; The hell is going on - am I going nuts?”[/color]

[color=FFA319]"Sydney..."[/color] Jørn gasped. [color=FFA319]"I've been wanting to visit that place for a while now. Australia in general, really. I've heard the nature here is breathtaking,"[/color] he spoke softly, eyes wide open, mesmerized and disbelieving.

He got snapped back to reality – for as far as this was indeed real – by the other man's comment. He snorted slightly, [color=FFA319]"I asked myself that same question just now. So I suppose that means you're not, and neither am I. Unless we're both going insane, but that seems very unlikely,"[/color] he said, a small smile curling around his lips. [color=FFA319]"Or unless I [i]am[/i] in fact going crazy, and you and all of this is not real, but..."[/color] he raised his eyebrows and stared absentmindedly. [color=FFA319]"That can't be,"[/color] he looked up into the male's brown eyes. [color=FFA319]"You are here right? And I am here. I can [i]feel[/i] that I am present, and I could [i]feel[/i] the change of atmosphere just now,"[/color] he rambled while making quick gestures with his hands. [color=FFA319]"So..."[/color] he paused, his face wry with confusion. He shook his head, [color=FFA319]"Yeah no, I have no idea of what is going on."[/color]

Too many questions and thoughts darted around Jørn's head: what was happening and how? Teleportation? Madness? What about the other hallucinations: where they not figments of imagination, but actually real as well then? And why did he have the feeling like he knew this person he had just met, living in city which was pretty much the antipode of where he lived, for much longer than a mere two minutes?

[color=1975FF]“Well how do I know I’m not the one going insane and you’re the hallucination?”[/color] Steve asked rhetorically, though the thought seemed ridiculous to him even as he said it. [color=1975FF]“No, you’re right. I have no idea what in the hell is going on either."[/color] He absently took a bite of his kebab and continued to think.

None of this made any sense. They were apparently on other sides of the world, yet could appear before each other in the blink of an eye and hold a normal conversation. Steve looked up and down the darkened road, but couldn't see anyone, which ruled checking if anyone else could see the other man. Speaking of that... [color=1975FF]“What's your name by the way?”[/color] he asked.

A disquieting thought occurred to him – the other man looked fairly similar to himself, in a rough sort of way; similar hair, height and build, but he had definitely been seeing other faces during the past week, ever since the dreams had started. How many more people were involved in this - or, just how crazy was he going?

[color=FFA319]“Jørn,”[/color] he replied maybe a bit too loudly, the name ringing through the nightly alley, as he jolted up from his mishmash of thinking. Out of habit he reached out a hand for the other to shake. A thought then shook him; this was the oppurtunity to know for sure whether they were indeed in contact. With his expression as placid as ever, he awaited the man’s response.

Steve shifted his kebab to his other hand and reached out to shake the other man’s hand, grasping it firmly. [color=1975FF]“The name’s Steve,”[/color] he said. It certainly was the highlight of an already weird night.

When the two shook hands, the deal was settled; Jørn could feel the warm skin from Steve’s hand, slightly sticky from the snack, touching the palm of his own. He could not help but smirk as a strange sensation went through him; the realization that this was in fact happening although he had no explanation as to how and why. He looked down from their handshake up to Steve who looked like he had become aware of the same.

[color=FFE375]“Jørn!”[/color] a distant voice called him. [color=FFE375]“The hell are you doing out there?!”[/color]

A cold wind pulled him backwards, sucking him back to the bleach shore of Skagen. Bewildered he looked around, but there was no trace left of the Australian man.

[color=FFE375]“Jørn!”[/color] The voice sounded closer now. The mentioned one turned around and saw a colleague of his drawing near: a young woman with ashblonde hair, tied up in a ponytail to prevent the wind from whipping her in the face with it. Jørn didn’t know her too well as she had joined the crew only a few weeks ago; he couldn’t even recall her name. [color=FFE375]“Did the cold get a grip of you or something?”[/color] she questioned, shaking her head at her co-worker who still looked a little dumbfounded.

[color=FFA319]“I… I was just going for a walk…”[/color] the man managed to utter. Glancing around once more, he followed the woman back to the cabin, leaving the spot where just a moment ago he had the inexplicable encounter.

Steve looked around the deserted street once more, wondering what had happened. [color=1975FF]“Jørn, you there?”[/color] he called out, his voice echoing in the night, [color=1975FF]“What in the...”[/color] There was nothing, no sign that he had ever been in Denmark, no sign of the other man except a lingering warmth on his palm. He started towards home at a brisk walk, eager to get back inside. [color=1975FF]“I need a bloody drink.”[/color]
[/hider]
[hider=3]
[center][h3][color=FFA319]Jørn Hansen[/color][/h3][/center]
[hr]
Back in the lodge, the crew members were gathered around a large table; some talking casually, while others discussed tomorrow’s plans. Keeping aloof from the conversation, Jørn sat in a corner, his hands clasped around a steaming cup. Gazing over the table he took a slow sip from his coffee. He had felt a great need for it after standing outside in the cold for most of the day. The caffeine was a nice bonus: slowly the effects of getting up before sunrise had started to kick in. It wasn’t last night only that made him feel tired. For the past few weeks he had gotten very little sleep, having trouble to drift off and waking up very shortly afterwards again. It was known to Jørn that he had a sleeping disorder; a side effect of the anxiety he had been diagnosed with. The nightmares were new, however. 

Moreover, there was one particular nightmare that kept repeating itself, haunting his mind night and day: a woman, in the midst of a dusky room, which peers at him, looking him in the eye before smiling and shooting herself. Jørn had tried to wake himself from the dream several times, trying to prevent the woman from the action, but his attempts were in vain.
And then there were the others, specters of people he had never met before. Up until now they had never appeared for long. His encounter with Steve had been completely different, the experience more vivid, more intense. Although Jørn still didn't have an explanation for it, he barely dared to doubt it had not happened. But if something like this could happen, then maybe the others had actually been there as well. Or maybe he made a connection between two things of an entirely different nature...

As the young man pondered over all of this, his forehead wrinkled up.

[color=FFE375]"What's up?"[/color] he heard next to him. Turning his head, his eyes met those of the woman from before, Helene -- he had picked up her name when someone had greeted her on their way in. There was something comforting about her soft, grey-blue gaze, but he could impossibly tell her what was troubling him.

[color=FFA319]"Ah, it's nothing. Just sketching out tomorrow's route in my head,"[/color] he made up, smiling as he tried to reassure her. [color=FFA319]"It's probably easier if I have a map in front of me though, so if you will excuse me..."[/color] he said while already standing up. He honestly just wanted to do something for a bit to get his thoughts off the subject. After a quick note to his colleagues, he left the room, heading to the bedroom that had been assigned to him.

"Maybe checking the route is actually not such a bad idea..." he wondered as he pushed down on the handle. He might as well open up his laptop, to see if there were any new emails for him, and maybe also read up on that forum which he had found the other day... Deep in thought, he mused over the possibilities as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

It was only then that Jørn noticed the chamber was quite unlike what he remembered. Apart from the furniture which didn't match his memories and which appeared to be more at home in someone's living room, it was a lot more spacious and light. Carefully he made a few steps forward into the room. Through one of the windows he looked over rooftops, shimmering in the sun in the late afternoon. [color=FFA319]"What in the... Again?"[/color] he stammered, blinking in disbelief.

[color=FFA319]“Hold da -!”[/color] (“Holy -!”) he exclaimed as he quickly turned around when he heard the jingling of keys. The sound came from a woman standing at the door, her posture one of defense; quite understandable when a stranger is randomly standing in your apartment. Her light eyes sparkled frightfully behind the waterfall of blonde curls, waving across her shoulders.

The male held up his hands almost instantly. [color=FFA319]"Calm down, don't worry, I mean you no harm,"[/color] he quickly stated, although the woman appeared more calm than him. [color=FFA319]"I don't even know how I got here, although that probably sounds crazy,"[/color] he muttered these last words, [color=FFA319]"let alone how I can get outta here and get back from where I came from."[/color]
Jørn immediately cursed himself after he spoke these words: there was no way in hell she was going to believe him. Unless... she could somehow visit him as well, just like Steve had.
[/hider]
[hider=4]
[center][h3][color=DBDB70]Dalia[/color] and [color=FFA319]Jørn[/color][/h3][/center]
[hr]
Blood pumped through Dalia’s veins hard, but she allowed herself to relax, as she could see traces of a small room with a bed. She forced her apartment into view. That was the room that was real; the one that was relevant to her.

[color=DBDB70]“Ja, men-”[/color] Dalia stopped talking, realizing she’d heard herself speaking an unfamiliar language. [color=DBDB70]“Interesting. Well, this is not my first… contact, today.”[/color] She locked her door, before walking away from it, and placing her bag on the coffee table the stranger had appeared near.

Jørn let out a deep sigh of relief when the woman calmed down, seemingly affected by his words. He slowly lowered his hands again, hoping she wouldn’t take it as a threat. He didn’t dare to move his legs however, remaining on the exact same spot; although the blonde was shorter than him by at least half a head, she gave the impression she was stronger than him, both by her physical characteristics as well as by her firm demeanor.

The way the blonde formulated her comment made him wonder what exactly she meant: had she been in a position similar to him, or did she mean something more ordinary? A raid perhaps.
He hesitated asking her whether she had been seeing strangers as well, but realizing this might give her an even more shady expression of him, he decided to rephrase his question, putting it more neutral. [color=FFA319]“So… You’ve had another visitor besides me?”[/color]

Dalia raised a slim eyebrow while walking to her small kitchen, on the other side of a counter. She wondered if the man - the hallucination - thought he had actually been transported to a stranger's apartment. [color=DBDB70]"I have seen another possibly-hallucinative person, yes. The last one seemed to favor the idea this was a shared perception of some sort."[/color] She set a kettle on her stove-top, and drew a teacup from her cupboard. [color=DBDB70]“You’ll forgive me for not offering tea, given you’re not actually here.”[/color]

Jørn tilted his head. [color=FFA319]"A shared perception, huh? That actually seems to make some sense... I mean, I still have no idea how it works, but at least it sounds more likely than a mere hallucination. Must've been a smart person who suggested that idea,"[/color] he smiled lightly. It made him wonder whether this woman had encountered someone else than Steve, since the man appeared to get the situation just as little as he did. Just how many people were there like him?

Feeling somewhat more at ease, he sat down on the sofa. [color=FFA319]"You don't mind me sitting here, do you? Since I'm not actually here, you know,"[/color] he remarked jokingly.

[color=DBDB70]"Of course,"[/color] she answered, while carefully scooping loose tea leaves into a net, which hung into a smaller sort of kettle.

From his new position Jørn looked over the apartment, slowly taking it in. It was rather different from his own; apart from the bag that had just been placed on top of the low table in front of him, it was very neat and organized, giving off a modern, professional vibe. He let his gaze wander over the kitchen, before letting his eyes rest on the woman, watching her prepare her drink.

[color=FFA319]"Ah, where are my manners, I haven't even introduced myself, nor asked for your name yet,"[/color] he suddenly realized. [color=FFA319]"I'm Jørn,"[/color] he nodded.

[color=DBDB70]"Dalia,"[/color] the host countered, carrying a small tray with the steeping kettle and a teacup over to her coffee table, and sitting beside Jørn. There was no furniture around for her to sit opposite him. She picked her workout bag off the table and dropped it beside, rather than sliding it.

[color=DBDB70]"This is Israel, by the way. Where might you be?"[/color] She allowed herself to see some of what his body did, as she had when he first entered. [color=DBDB70]"Some sort of... cabin?"[/color] The style of the room was alien to her, having lived either in the city or a barracks her whole life.

Jørn glanced up, noting they were in an environment he was familiar with. The two of them were now seated on his bed which was still uncovered, the sheets flung loosely over the mattress as a result of the rush this morning; there was no place for a sofa in the small bedroom.
Although it was an hour earlier in Denmark than in Israel, the clouded sky gave the impression it was actually quite a bit later here in Skagen than in the sunny city.

Remembering Dalia’s question, he faced her once more. [color=FFA319]“Yeah, we rented a lodge in the northern part of Denmark. We made some shots of migrating birds this morning. Made shots of them, not shoot them,”[/color] Jørn stressed, ensuring sure to make his intentions clear; he was very much against the use of firearms. He knew how to use a rifle, but he only learned it as an emergency measure in case they were photographing larger animals that were known to sometimes leash out.

[color=FFA319]“It’s for the nature magazine I work at,”[/color] he explained. [color=FFA319]“Here, let me show you some of the pictures we managed to make.”[/color] The tall man stood up and walked over to a desk in the corner of the room. He picked up the hefty camera and carefully removed the lens to make carrying the object an easier task. He placed the optic instrument in a black case in which he kept several lenses, before heading back to the bed. Sitting down again, he felt the mattress underneath him sink in under the weight. With a few clicks on some buttons a photo of a white-tailed eagle in flight came into view. Jørn held up the device to Dalia. [color=FFA319]“Amazing, right?”[/color] he said, his eyes widened with fascination. [color=FFA319]“This really was a lucky shot; I hadn’t expected to see one this early in the season,”[/color] he added.

Dalia nodded appreciatively. [color=DBDB70]"Bird and photo both are quite beautiful. I frequent a small museum which has some especially good photography of fauna."[/color] Her eyes drifted to the edge of the phone, and down its strap, as a thought came to her. Dalia reached down to the camera's strap, lifting it into the air, feeling the texture beneath her fingertips.

[color=DBDB70]"If I was to assume this shared perception was real, how are we both holding this camera? Am I using your hand to lift the strap?"[/color]

Jørn looked down at his hands, both were holding tight onto the apparatus. Meaningful he looked up from his hands into the young woman’s face: he could not be the one lifting the strap as his hands were preoccupied. [color=FFA319]“Can you feel the strap?”[/color] he asked her, not sure what else to ask.

[color=DBDB70]"I can,"[/color] Dalia confirmed, but she paused, rubbing her fingers over the strap's surface, expression thoughtful.

[color=FFA319]“I um, I also had a ‘visitor’ earlier today, a man from Australia. When we shook hands I could feel the warmth from his skin,”[/color] he commented. [color=FFA319]“I figured that, because of the amount of detail and because I could not only see and hear, but also feel him, it couldn’t be a hallucination, nor a dream. Later I wondered that maybe your brain fills in the sensation of touch: you expect to feel warmth when you touch someone. Something like that, you know? But… that doesn’t seem to explain everything. Neither does the idea of a shared perception seem to.”[/color] He shook his head slightly. [color=FFA319]“What might be even weirder is that, even though I have no clue of what is going on and what is happening to me, I feel oddly at ease. Maybe it’s because I got sort of used to it, with all these nightmares and visions of the past few weeks, I dunno,”[/color] he cast his eyes to the ground. [color=FFA319]“I’m also a lot more talkative right now than I normally am,”[/color] he suddenly realized. [color=FFA319]“Usually I would’ve kept all these thoughts to myself.”[/color] He paused for a moment. [color=FFA319]“Sorry for my rambling; my thoughts are kinda all over the place at the moment.”[/color]

Dalia shook her head dismissively. [color=DBDB70]"It's no trouble. Listening is my career. I suspect..."[/color] she said, allowing the strap to fall gently, [color=DBDB70]"that your brain was allowing for you to think you were holding the camera with both hands, but you actually held the strap with one."[/color]

She stood then, and took a look around the small room, before forcing her own apartment back into her perception. [color=DBDB70]"That's assuming this is all real, of course. Now, I really should be preparing for my evening, if you don't mind."[/color]

[color=FFA319]“Alright,”[/color] Jørn nodded slowly as he found himself back on the sofa. With the short time that had passed in between, the apartment was now painted with the glow of the setting sun. [color=FFA319]“Enjoy your evening, Dalia,”[/color] he smiled weakly as he departed from the woman and the rented bedroom came back into view. Putting down the camera on the wooden nightstand next to his bed, he let himself fall backwards on the sheets, closing his eyes. Vaguely the scene replayed itself behind his eyelids, after which soon he drifted off in a light slumber.


Dalia did not sleep for some hours more, having an obligation to see whatever romantic candidate her mother was trying to introduce. It had taken some effort to politely decline the man's interest, but not doing so had never even occurred to Dalia. Ultimately, she'd returned, tended to her teeth, seen a stranger in the mirror instead of herself, and gone to sleep. It seemed strangely routine.

[center]-•-•-•-[/center]

It was some days later when, during her sleep, Dalia dreamt of one of the people she'd been seeing. The woman - the American - was walking through a neighborhood she really had no business in, and being surrounded by several men.

[color=DBDB70]"You know,"[/color] Dalia observed, [color=DBDB70]"they're obviously untrained."[/color]

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As days went by, Jørn frequently encountered the foreigners, getting more and more familiar with their faces. There were five of them, six if he included himself. He had gotten more or less used to the situation by now and had given up thinking about the causes and details. Right now he had other things on his mind anyway, as his birthday was drawing near. Last year he had spent it in the office, finishing up an article, but this year around the same time there was not much to do, which made him decide that he wanted to celebrate it in a somewhat nicer way. He had planned to spend the day with the people dear to him: his family, friends, and girlfriend. He wanted to organize something small for each of them; go see his friends in one of the local cafes, invite his father over, and have a special dinner with Stine. The problem was how to schedule it all in one day, and in what order…

At the moment Jørn didn’t want to occupy himself with this however. He was sitting in one of the comfy chairs in his apartment, softly strumming the strings of his guitar. He listened carefully to the tones, adjusting the strings where necessary. It had been a long time since the last time he had played the instrument.
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