The Belle Époque of My Forefathers

Has the death of the European city already occurred? I don’t think so. But the death rattle can be heard. - David Brussat

My town Gjøvik is now doomed, as they will build a UFO-Hotel (inspired by Apple headquarter?) on the top of Mount Hovdetoppen, and sterile apartment blocks on its hillside.

By the way, the countryside is doomed as well. I do now live temporarily on my forefathers small farm up to the Totenåsen Hills, but the place and the great culture that prevailed here during the belle époque, is now lost. My daughter is generation 7 here, but I cannot give this place to her, as it's dishonored. I'm just here temporarily to document the remnants of the belle époque in poetry and photography.

Where to settle after I don't know? Maybe I can find a place to withdraw from the rubble of the baby boomers?

My ongoing photo-poetry, where I extract the poetry from the photo, can be followed here.

It's a mixture of honoring the belle époque and condemning our fall and the destruction of our heritage.

The belle époque of my forefathers is rapidly fading away under moss and leaves. This is why my forefathers sent me here to honor and document the last remnants of their culture, which was a peak of Norwegian culture. Here the belle époque period lasted from 1892-1940. Around 1890 here was a great darkness, and now, with the fall of my forefathers culture, the darkness has returned, darker than ever.

-Wikimedia.

- Europe as museum for rich?

Among Mr. Laqueur’s last books was Reflections of a Veteran Pessimist (2017). The title notwithstanding, he told Der Spiegel that he would have preferred to live during the belle époque, at the end of the 19th century, when hope sprang eternal. He then paused to reconsider.

“Hope springs eternal,” he repeated. “It’s one of the most frequently quoted verses of English poetry. The poet was Alexander Pope, a decidedly cautious man. He had many enemies, and we know from his sister that he never went out into the street without his large, aggressive dog, and always with two loaded pistols in his bag.” - Sam Roberts

How I wish I could LIVE the culture of my forefathers belle époque at THIS place. Instead I became a guardian of the last shadows of their fading culture. Soon it will all be gone, and then I'll too go away with it. But first I will finish my forefathers mission, as it was they who sent me here, to remind people of their belle époque.

***

How can a narcissist be this reflective? He nails everything just spot on! The narcissists I met this far are just ridicules, but this one isn't. Yes, technology is a joy, as my only friend left is my camera. I only connect to the world with my camera. My neighbors I don't speak to or know who they are? Conversations are gone, and every aspect of culture is lost.

My forefathers were like white blood cells, everything they touched became healed, healthy and beautiful. We, on the contrary, have become like yellow staphylococci, everything we touch and whatever we do, it becomes infected, unhealthy, ugly and destructive. We are not able to do anything anymore, or to say anything anymore, without killing life.

The beauty of my forefathers, as it manifested itself in space 100 years ago.