And leaving London. Going back to Norway! / Some deluded souls think Svein is going to set up a new hedge fund, a ridiculous European mid-cap long/short one. 'Ha!' Ha! Nonsense. Utter nonsense! 'Balderdash, boss!' Don't believe a word of it, my friend(s). He's actually going back to Norway because he wants to live in a hut. 'Brilliant, Mikey!' Oh yes, Voice. Just like Lieutenant Thomas Glahn.
Solitary adventures, I should imagine ... / He'll be glad to be alone, to know that none can see his eyes. / Out and about, Svein will lean securely against a rock wall, knowing that no one can stand and watch him from behind. A bird will swoop over the crest with a broken cry; at the same moment a boulder will break loose not far away and roll down into the sea. Svein will rest there for a while, quite still, sunk in repose; a warm and comfortable feeling will steal over him as he sits so snug in his shelter while the rain pours down around him. He'll button up his jacket and thank God for the warmth of it. A little time will pass. He'll fall asleep.
Well, that's what I reckon, anyway. Svein has enough money now. There's no need for him to work ever again. Why shouldn't he retreat from the stresses and horrors of modern life? Svein belongs to the forests and the solitude. / Back in his hut. I'm only wondering if there'll be any Iron Nights, nights of supreme tension. There might be some frost. Or instead of frost, a lingering heat after the sun of the days. / A night could be like a warm morass, I suppose. He'll probably pile up the fire ...
But it's none of my business! I'm just glad Svein is getting out of London, and getting away from hedge funds.
Solitary adventures, I should imagine ... / He'll be glad to be alone, to know that none can see his eyes. / Out and about, Svein will lean securely against a rock wall, knowing that no one can stand and watch him from behind. A bird will swoop over the crest with a broken cry; at the same moment a boulder will break loose not far away and roll down into the sea. Svein will rest there for a while, quite still, sunk in repose; a warm and comfortable feeling will steal over him as he sits so snug in his shelter while the rain pours down around him. He'll button up his jacket and thank God for the warmth of it. A little time will pass. He'll fall asleep.
Well, that's what I reckon, anyway. Svein has enough money now. There's no need for him to work ever again. Why shouldn't he retreat from the stresses and horrors of modern life? Svein belongs to the forests and the solitude. / Back in his hut. I'm only wondering if there'll be any Iron Nights, nights of supreme tension. There might be some frost. Or instead of frost, a lingering heat after the sun of the days. / A night could be like a warm morass, I suppose. He'll probably pile up the fire ...
But it's none of my business! I'm just glad Svein is getting out of London, and getting away from hedge funds.
