Today, there are no roses to be had in Oslo, for love nor money.
I am standing by the fountain outside the City Hall. With me around the fountain are hundreds of others. Around them are thousands more, and beyond those, tens of thousands. I do not know precisely how many, and to be honest, I do not think anyone does. A hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? Three hundred thousand? Most of them with a rose in their hand, many with two or more.
This is our finest hour. Continue reading “Unanimiter et constanter”
