Word: oslo
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...Norwegian cities of Oslo and Tromsø are only 650 miles and 100 minutes apart. The psychological distance, however, is much greater, for Tromsø lies 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle, and its 40,000 inhabitants live two months of each year without seeing the sun. In this polar blackness or mørketiden* (murky time), the mentally unstable may slip over the edge into a temporary state of profound mental disturbance. Even those who are emotionally healthy the rest of the year may become unaccountably tense, restless, fearful and preoccupied with thoughts of death and suicide...
From Nov. 25 to Jan. 21, the sun does not rise above the horizon in Tromsø or in the rest of Norway's far north, leaving the region in darkness except for an hour of gloomy twilight at noon. TIME's Oslo correspondent, Dag Christensen, describes the scene at midday: "As the jet speeds northward, you see the moon shining brighter every minute. You glimpse small, isolated settlements, clusters of fishermen's houses along the rugged coast, and little farms at the foot of the towering mountains. As you approach Tromsø the faint, fading twilight...
Lovers to Friends. Eventually Liv and Bergman agreed to a three-month trial separation, and she took Linn, who was nursery-school-age by this time, home to Oslo. With distance between her and Bergman, relations seemed to improve. They talked nightly on the phone, sometimes for as long as two hours. Liv finally told Bergman she wanted to come back. He responded cordially but vaguely, and soon Liv received a letter telling her it was all over. "There is nothing," she says, "that you can say to a letter...
...paralyzed or crippled, old and alone and above all unloved, with nothing but her books to keep her company. Perhaps it is in hopes of warding off a crippling thunderbolt that she still resists being a star, plays down her fame, dresses unremarkably. "You look just like Liv Ullmann," Oslo store clerks often tell her. "Do you think so?" she always replies. "That's what everybody says...
Meanwhile Liv is trying to make sense of it all in her usual way: by describing it in diary-like essays. She scribbles constantly-between takes, in the evenings, on vacations-and hopes to put together a book, part of which is already in the hands of an Oslo publisher. "I want to write about what it feels like to be a woman in this century, where everything has changed," she says, "about what I feel inside myself, having a child and not being married; about my childhood, what is left and what has disappeared. I would call the book...