My boyfriend comes from Zamora. He moved to Oslo several years ago when the Spanish labour market was impossible to enter. We spent christmas with his family in Zamora once and he fell sick with a flu. As he lay in bed, I ventured out into his neighbourhood.
This is where he is from. His whole family and history contained within the city limits. He left it behind. Transplanted into my world. Like a ghost he comes back to haunt the city when he can. Only catching back up with what happened while he was away.
Everyone is inside with their families, leaving the streets looking like set pieces. An empty stage never played on, for a life never lived. As I wander about the streets I cannot help but wonder how his life would play out here, without me.