Source: http://www.dagbladet.no/2013/09/19/kjendis/ylvis/the_fox/ylvisaker/helga_ylvisaker/29353850/
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from South Korea
seen from Chile
seen from China

seen from Germany
seen from China

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Ireland

seen from Russia

seen from United States
Source: http://www.dagbladet.no/2013/09/19/kjendis/ylvis/the_fox/ylvisaker/helga_ylvisaker/29353850/
“Who’re you?”
Only a handful of days had passed since Bard had been gifted a bow and he could not seem to take his hands off it. He brought it everywhere around the house with him (and was of course told off when he brought it to the dinner table), he pestered his father endlessly about letting his practice, he fletched arrows almost obsessively for it...Truth be told his parents were starting to get a little worried.
It was probably because of this that his father allowed him to bring the bow whenever they went to collect barrels. The woods provided a good place to practice and Bard would often try his luck at shooting down flowers or acorns. He fancied himself a hunter like his father and then one day he came across...
The boy stopped in his tracks, jaw going slack at the sight in front of it. It...it was the biggest thing he had ever seen. It stood taller than him and those horns! Bard's lips formed a little grin even as he stared. If he could take it down, it would be enough to feed his family for a whole season. Maybe even two! Reaching over his shoulder for an arrow, Bard notched it and aimed.
in pulling myself together I had to pull everyone in me out, now I am all pulled apart, but a yoke of imagination; and now everyone is just a metaphor for fear and mortality
in Remembrance of things Past,
memory, a lovers' cast,
the deep search–
the humming moon
my boyish swoon
your graceful perch
on the bough of my indeterminate reality.
–My soul–
in dream, in flight,
whirring
breathing–
belong,
"but not to me".
and as the thorns crawled
up my weak thought mast
you continue to stand
illuminated.
yet,
here I am,
drowned in the elixer
of pain–
searching the constellations
for your name.
ruined,
heartbroken,
praying it was all worth it.
Inamorata–
my beholden spirit.
I find myself at the bottom of another glass , curtains of grey closing on my sight —a familiar place I awake whilst falling something is holding my arms —venomous barbs I am at the bottom of another glass —and I feel nothing
I can hear you in the other room —of my mind take me to you —on your words while I am singing and take me to you because you want to hear my breathing and take me to that place —where I stop dreaming I'm sorry —I can't stop screaming Tonight —again dressed in this —sorrow I have no strength to act but to ask —yet again to breathe for me
lay by me —before I go in the damp moonlight seeking peace —in her glow
Hold your desires near
as the leaves hold to their branches
as the water to the earth
part not with your desires
as memories part of each passing soul
let not time
consume your desires
so she speaks---
of
rain dripping down a mountain crevasse
sometimes steady
sometimes slow
always
into the parting earth
always away from the glow
so she tells---
to
the torn hearts
the barren skies
in her small voice
that is not swallowed
her words;
on her words
do our desires
depart
air dry
slithering misery beg on my door i will further your veneration. tell me your lies tell me your worries address me as your number one problem. we'll sing a wonderful duet to hope teach me filth feed me your luck. a bastion of beat with ostentatious olfaction searching for ridiculous redemption how numbingly naive. lets walk to the door and prize what just happened respect for experience says i envy you, says im just you. again occlude me dream me to the air you exist in.