Jensen remained what he had always been - a man no one believed in. One autumn day when he finished work in November 2000, he cycled home from work. It had been a long and miserable day, where the only sound that still vibrated in the snail's house was smacking chewing gum from colleagues and a pen that fell to the floor every now and then. Jensen was cold. Still, he did not care about the body's signals when he approached the house at Lade in Trondheim, because he knew that something warm and good was waiting for him.
When the door came in and had found a place in the easy chair, with its legs thrown up on the pouf, something was wrong. Where was his cell phone? It was not in the bag. Not in the jacket pocket either. He must have lost it on the way home from work.
With an anger as big as the tag in Frognerparken, Jensen walked out of the house and down the road. "How is it possible to be such an idiot?" He thought as the sidewalk disappeared beneath him. When he had come to Østmarkneset he gave up the search. Now the rain had started again, and the few areas of previously dry skin were now soaked by frozen autumn rain. He was bored. He wanted to go home.
Jensen turned and was about to return to the apartment when he glimpsed something between the soon-to-be gray deciduous forest. What's there? A sign? Jensen followed the arrow on the sign and strutted through the orange bush of deciduous shrubs, knocked off the branches and finally came to something he had never seen before. A bunker. Gray and gloomy on the facade, created for a war scene from one of Hollywood's big movies. Jensen opened the door and felt the handle slide down. The yellow light in the crack in the door now became a hall of colors. The heat pierced the water molecules in the coat and sent white steam up to the ceiling. It was like going to heaven. A small candle. A pine door. An oven with crackling crackling from the pine logs that underwent a complete combustion. Jensen did not leave immediately.
Many years have passed since Jensen visited the sauna in the unknown and gray bunker. Many years of doctor visits, abandoned friends and restless nights. Jensen believes that he is not doing anything wrong, but the doctors continue to claim that he has 1 degree too much in core temperature.
We believe you Jensen. We know you're not sick. Sauna fever is still not easy to understand for people who have not experienced Bartstua's magical atmosphere.
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