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About Oslo

But real talk—it’s fascinatin’, the whole game. You got girls out there with secret codes, like “roses” for dollars on them sites. Sneaky as hell. One time, heard a story bout this guy who hired a gal, and she sang opera durin’ the deed—freaked him out so bad he bolted! Can’t make this shit up. Gets me wonderin’, what’s her story? Maybe she’s like Ida, searchin’ for somethin’ deeper, stuck in a grind. “What have you done with your life?”—that’s another *Ida* zinger that’d make me wanna ask her, but nah, too awkward.

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I decide to follow them. They lead me to a park near the old church, and it’s packed. Families, dogs, everyone’s just enjoying life. I plop down on a bench, and this old man sits next to me. He starts telling me stories about Voss. Like, did you know it’s famous for its skiing? I mean, I knew, but hearing it from him made it real.

Donald Ervin Voss